


Seeing Double

by CrowHorse1, Dreamsnake



Category: Dark Angel, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Alec, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Seizures, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 95,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowHorse1/pseuds/CrowHorse1, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamsnake/pseuds/Dreamsnake
Summary: Part 1(up to end chapter 26)When a man collapses by the Impala, Dean Winchester would normally call 911 and move on. But this man is wearing his face.Hurt/Comfort and lots of Angst as the brothers deal with the addition to their lives while trying to cope with Sam's visions and Dean's guilt over his father's deal with the yellow-eyed demon.Part 2(chapter 27 onwards)Alec and Dean, universes apart, both searching for something they've lost but can't remember.  Sam, trying to regain Dean's trust after his possession by Meg.To complicate everything the Winchesters find themselves in post-pulse Seattle...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I fancied doing some Dark Angel/Supernatural crossover. After all, two helpings of Jensen can't be bad?
> 
> As I'm doing a crossover this is going to be AU for both series, although events up to the start of the story will remain as canon as possible for both Dark Angel and Supernatural.
> 
> I want the boys to be fairly close in age for the purposes of this story... So I'm pulling Alec into the story aged about 20/21, sometime just after The Berrisford Agenda. Dean and Sam will be pulled from early season 2 of Supernatural, making Dean approximately 26/27 and Sam therefore 22/23.  
> This obviously shouldn't work as season 2 Supernatural is set back in 2006 and Dark Angel is in the future, but the answer to this mystery forms part of the story. :)

 

There was something unyielding and cold pressing into his cheek bone… or maybe it was his cheek bone that was lying _on_ something… yeah, that’s it, thought Alec, his faculties gradually coming back on line. He was lying on a concrete surface and it was cold, cold and wet. He shuddered involuntarily, feeling around him with his heightened senses. He couldn’t detect any immediate threats so he opened his eyes slowly.

He was lying in an alleyway. It was dark where he lay, just outside the pool of light from the main street. He remembered feeling odd, dizzy, turning into the alley on his bike, away from the street and curious eyes.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, leaning his back against the rough bricks behind him. His cat DNA allowed him to interrogate the shadows with ease and informed him that his bike and packages were gone. Normal was going to be so pissed.

He climbed slowly to his feet, bracing himself against the wall. He felt weak, dizzy, nauseous, his head pounding. He checked himself over carefully… no injuries. It didn’t feel like the onset of the shakes and transgenics weren’t meant to just get sick, not with their enhanced immune system.

Carefully, Alec took an experimental step; he nearly fell and dropped against the wall, panting. All his muscles were hurting and his legs were shaking so much he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make it to the end of the alleyway let alone back to his apartment on foot.

Unwillingly he pulled out his cell. He didn’t want to call Max and he’d never hear the last of it, but she’d come if he asked. He flipped open the cell; the screen was white, blank. “Great,” he thought. “Just… great.”

He moved slowly, shakily towards the end of the alleyway, grateful it seemed relatively clear of debris. By the time he reached the end his vision was tunnelling and he gripped onto the brick corner with desperate fingers. The street seemed… tidy? Neat pools of light showed a swept sidewalk, no garbage, no graffiti. Directly in front of him was a beast of a car. Even in his weakened state Alec felt appreciation for her sculptured lines and the dark gloss of her paintwork and chrome. A figure straightened from the trunk, slamming the lid.

Alec took a shaky step forwards and the world flipped; vaguely he felt the impact as the side of his head cracked sickeningly onto the sidewalk. There was a muffled curse and then someone had hold of his shoulder.

“Hey buddy, you okay there.” A deep growl of a voice, oddly familiar even through the ringing in his ears.

Strong hands took hold of his shoulders, rolling him onto his back. There was an expletive, followed almost immediately by a sharp slice of pain across the back of his wrist. Alec tried to protest but couldn’t get out much more than a grunt. His eyes shot open in shock as something cold and wet splashed into his face.

The dark silhouette leaning over him sighed. “Sorry kid, gotta be sure.” Firm fingers took hold of his jaw, rolling his face towards the light. There was an intake of breath, a grouse of “What the hell are you?” as hands checked over him in a pattern he recognised from field first aid.

Alec began to float, his eyelids sliding down.

“Sonofabitch! I should just leave you here, but that's not your face."

Alec felt a surge of panic, struggling as hands slipped beneath his shoulders and knees. He couldn’t think of any good reason why some stranger would pick him up because of his face.

He was swung up into the air, cushioned against leather. He tried to pull free but pain and nausea swept through him.

“Keep still, you’re heavy dude.”

The ease with which the man carried him made a lie of the words as Alec went limp, his head rolling to the side, forehead coming to rest under the man’s jaw. A familiar and oddly safe scent filled his nostrils. The smell of his own skin under the summer sun, his own scent, but not. This was no transgenic. The temperature of the skin alone told him that.

There was a moment of weightlessness and then he was down, folded carefully into the passenger seat of the shiny, black car. He whimpered, hating that he had made a sound and hating his own vulnerability.

The driver’s door slammed and the vehicle snarled into life with a deep rumble. Barely conscious now, Alec rolled towards the familiar smell, his head coming to rest on the leather seat close to the man’s leg.

“Well this is just awesome.” The voice grumbled even as something warm was tugged over his shivering form.

Alec curled in on himself as the vehicle surged forwards, giving into the darkness and slipping away into silence.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

When the lights of the motel came into sight, Dean flipped open his cell and speed dialled his brother.

“Sam. Get your ass outside, I need a hand here.”

For a split second he considered telling his brother to come armed, dismissing it immediately as unnecessary. Sam would be prepared for anything.

Sure enough Sam was waiting outside the motel room, looking slightly alarmed under a wet mop of unruly hair. Dean popped the Impala’s door open and stepped out with a smirk.

“Did I catch you in the shower dude?”

“Huh? No, just out. What’ve you got there?” Sam approached the passenger door, eyeing the blanket wrapped heap on the front seat.

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Dean took hold of the man’s shoulders, tugged the prone figure back to a sitting position and hauled him out of the vehicle. “Get a hold of his legs, let’s get him inside.”

Sam looked a little surprised, but took hold of the long legs and they whisked the man inside, blanket trailing after them, getting him safely out from under the eyes of any interfering neighbours. They dropped him onto one of the beds and Dean peeled back the blanket. He drew in a sharp breath. Under the brighter light of the dusty bulb the resemblance was even more remarkable.

Sam loomed over his shoulder. “Who the hell is that? And why’d you bring him here?” He suddenly focussed on the features, a surprised expletive bursting from his lips.

There was a pause as both men studied the limp figure.

“He’s not a shapeshifter.” Sam’s voice was confident. He caught the unspoken query in Dean’s raised eyebrow. “Different hair, no scar... and he’s younger than you. I remember you looking like this though, before I went to Stanford.”

“Dude! I never had a haircut like that!” Dean sounded affronted. “You’re right though, I checked with silver, he’s no shapeshifter. Not a demon either.”

He pointed at the back of the man’s neck. “What’s that?”

Sam hooked a finger into the stranger’s collar, pulling it down a little.

“What _is_ that?” Dean was peering over his shoulder.

“Some kind of tattoo I guess. Looks like a barcode.” Sam shrugged, letting the collar ride back up. “So, what is he? Human?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. He just kinda fell out of an alleyway right in front of me. Doesn’t seem to have any injuries… well not ‘til he smacked his head on the sidewalk. But hey, what’s the odds on there not being something freaky involved? I couldn’t leave him lying there, he's wearing my face!"

The man took in a little gasp of air, his hands twitching slightly.

Sam sighed. “Whatever, whoever he is, he’s not looking so good.”

Dark eyelashes trembled and the man opened his eyelids a little, narrow slits of vivid green fixing balefully on Sam.

It was only a hoarse whisper, but the words were unmistakeable.

“I always look good.”

“Oh no,” said Sam mournfully. “You’re kidding me right? I’m having a nightmare.”

.

The shock of the cold air when he was lifted out of the Impala roused Alec. He struggled towards consciousness, crawling his way slowly out of the cloying darkness towards a jumble of words floating above him.

After a while he realised they were talking about him. The familiar, comforting scent so like his own was nearby; another blending with it, similar yet subtly different. He forced himself nearer the surface; he was vulnerable in this state. He needed to get to his feet, get away and find somewhere to hide until he could get hold of Max.

“… he’s not looking so good.”

Really? It was okay for them to think that, they wouldn’t be expecting it when he made his move. Even so, he couldn’t bite back the automatic response, forcing it through the dryness of his throat.

“I always look good.”

The growly voice was suddenly next to him. “Hey, you with us? Come on dude, keep your eyes open." The owner of the voice shook his shoulder gently. "You got a name?”

Alec struggled to open his eyes fully. The face over his was a blur. He blinked furiously.

“Your name, what’s your name?” The question was sharper, almost an order. He found himself responding automatically.

“X… er…” His brain stuttered, realising his mistake as he remembered these were probably Ordinaries, not friendly to transgenics. He tried again. “Alec… ‘m Alec.”

“Alec. Okay Alec, are you injured?”

“Nuh.” He couldn’t remember being injured.

“You’re sick then?”

An icy wave shuddered through Alec's frame and his head pounded viciously in response. He took a deep breath and forced himself up onto his elbow, nausea roiling in his gut.

“I, I don’t get sick. I’m not sick.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he gagged. Someone tilted him so his head was over the edge of the bed as he began to heave violently. He could feel a pair of hands supporting him as another thrust a trash can under his mouth.

The deep voice again. “Yeah, I guess you're feeling peachy then, huh?”

Someone gave him a mouthful of water, wiped his face. Alec tried, really hard, to keep his head up, keep alert. Maybe this was all just a ruse to make him off his guard. Any minute now it would start.

“Just relax, okay. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.” The other voice this time, gentle, easy. “Maybe we should just take him to the hospital Dean?”

“No!” Alec fought to keep his eyes open, but the light was fading. “No hospital, please."

He tried to say something more, was dismayed when it came out as a groan. The next wave of cold washed over him, sweeping up his last remaining spark of consciousness and dousing it in icy darkness.

.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Sammy.” Dean’s voice was gruff. “We don’t know what he is.”

Sam stared at him. “We don’t know _who_ he is. For now we’ll treat him like he’s not a monster. That’s why you brought him here, right?”

Dean huffed, shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe I just didn’t want to leave a corpse lying in the street wearing my face.”


	3. Chapter 3

There was no slow climb into consciousness this time. The click of the door shutting snapped Alec into awareness. He tensed immediately and opened his eyes, ready for fight or flight.

He could hear someone breathing near to him, the rate of respiration picking up slightly as though the watcher was also anticipating possible action. Alec rolled his head cautiously towards the sound.

A figure rose from a nearby chair and stepped forwards into the lamplight, stopping at a distance Alec recognised as being near enough to react, but not close enough to be at risk from a first strike.

The familiar scent flooded his nostrils again; at the same time his gaze fixed on the face staring intently in his direction. Green eyes met green eyes. Alec shot upright in shock, swinging his legs to the floor, his rapid movement causing a corresponding step backwards from the other man.

The abrupt change in altitude was a mistake. The mirror image of his face was suddenly right in front of him as hands braced his shoulders, preventing him from face planting the dirty carpet.

“Whoa… easy there.”

Alec’s eyelids fluttered. He lost a few seconds and came back to find his forehead leaning heavily on a blue shirt. He recoiled instinctively, pushing weakly at the arms holding him upright.

“Who the hell are you?” He managed.

“Right back at ya dude.” The man sounded disgruntled, stepping away a little but still keeping one steadying hand on Alec’s shoulder.

Alec frowned, trying to pull the man's grip from his shoulder and wondering why he didn’t have the strength to prise the fingers loose. He was fine. He didn’t need help; he just needed to sit a minute.

The door burst open and a tall guy entered, precariously balancing a cardboard tray of coffee, a large paper takeaway bag tucked under one arm. He came to an abrupt halt, staring at them from under a mop of brown hair.

"Dean, what have you done to him?"

"What! What have I done? Oh that is just typical of you Sammy."

Looking pissed, Dean pulled away his supporting hand, ripping his sleeve free from Alec's grasp.

Alec had a brief, glorious sensation of triumph and then promptly toppled off the bed. Dean caught him just before he hit the floor, hefting him up and dropping him back onto the hard mattress with a grunt.

"Stay down will ya. You're heavier than you look."

Alec took a deep breath and forced himself back up to lean on his elbow.

"I've gotta go," he bit out, glowering at Dean.

"Right. Sure you do. Good luck with that." Sarcasm laced Dean's tone as he glared right back.

 

Breakfast safely deposited on the table, Sam approached slowly, stopping well before he encroached on Alec’s self-imposed bubble of space.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You’re Alec, right?”

There was a flicker of acknowledgement on Alec’s face as he sat up in slow stages.

“I’m Sam,” continued Sam smoothly. “And this here’s my brother, Dean. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Alec snorted, a look of disdain settling on his features.

“Too right you’re not.” He glanced around quickly. “Where am I?”

“A motel, on the outskirts of Seattle.”

“Why’d you bring me here? What do you want?” There was accusation in the tone.

Dean’s voice broke in. Deeper, gruffer than Alec’s, yet still somehow the same. “You fainted in the street, kiddo.”

”I did not faint.” Definitely a higher note now, Sam thought in amusement, as Alec scowled. “And I’m not a kid, _Deano_.”

“Whatever dude.” Dean sounded irritated. “Maybe I should’ve just left your ass lying there.”

Alec had his feet on the floor now, his hands braced on the edge of the bed, seriously considering making a break for the door. He paused, looking genuinely puzzled.

“Why didn’t you?”

Dean simply raised an eyebrow.

“Ahh, you picked me up because we look alike? Well I hate to break it to you but I’m not a long lost little brother. Because you are older than me right? You’re looking a little worn around the edges there fella. You might want to take better care of yourself. It’s a shame to ruin a masterpiece like this.”

The words dripped sarcasm. Alec smirked, then raised his eyebrows airily.

“So, I'm gonna go now?”

He stood carefully, swayed, swallowed heavily, then forced a little grin.

“You’re not gonna try and keep me here against my will or anything shady like that? No? Well if you’ll just point me in the right direction...”

“Now you hold it right there!” Dean’s eyes blazed.

“Dean, wait.” Sam interceded hurriedly. “Alec, look, we were only trying to help, okay? Now we can take you back to where Dean picked you up, but you’ve got to be wondering why you look so much like my brother here? I know I am.”

Alec smirked again. “I look way better than him. What can I say? Just good genes I guess.”

Truth was, he was finding it hard to stand upright; bright spots were gathering rapidly at the edges of his vision. He was reasonably sure he wouldn’t make it as far as the door.

As much as he knew he should leave, Dean’s resemblance was uncanny. He was clearly a few years older, his voice a little deeper, the bones of his face more clearly defined, more bulk around the shoulders. Too many years older to have been an earlier X series, but he was no transgenic anyway, Alec was sure of that.

He’d have put it down to a spooky coincidence, that one in ten million chance of actually meeting your mythical double, if it wasn’t for the scent. Shared looks were one thing. The same scent? That was something else. And Alec’s enhanced sense of smell told him it was identical to his own, minus only his own hint of cat. Sam, biologically related to Dean, smelt similar but not quite the same, like a different blend of a distinctive perfume.

Despite his instincts to escape, Alec found himself intrigued. Curiosity killed the cat, he thought wryly; he wanted to find out more about these two strangers.

First though, he had to sit down.

Now.

His knees folded of their own accord and he plumped back onto his ass on the bed, trying to ignore the fact that his ears were ringing and his vision was going patchy.

Sam, of course, saw right through the false front. Alec’s face was paper white, his freckles stark against the skin. It was a familiar look, one he saw on Dean’s face all too often.

“Okay,” he said kindly, ignoring Dean’s glare and acting as though this was all just a normal morning. “We’ll drop you off later. I need to eat first… I brought us some breakfast.”

He headed over to the table, deliberately turning his back on Alec and fishing in the paper bag. A smell of breakfast burger filled the room.

Alec’s stomach gurgled. Now his nausea was passing he was suddenly hungry. Actually he was starving. He swallowed against the surge of saliva, wondering if he was included in the breakfast offer. There did seem to be three cups of coffee. He looked hopefully at the paper bag.

“Alec!”

Dean threw a wrapped breakfast burger at him. It was moving at some speed. Alec snatched it out of the air with ease and ripped back the paper. There was a little curl at the corner of Dean’s mouth that made him feel he’d passed, or maybe even failed, some sort of obscure test.

He was about to sink his teeth into the tantalising warmth when it occurred to him that it may be poisoned or drugged. The thought was dismissed immediately. If they’d wanted to harm him, they’d have done it already. He bit down on the burger with gusto, completely missing Sam’s amused chuckle.

 

By the time he’d sucked down a strong coffee, Alec was feeling more himself, but he couldn’t ignore the insistent pressure in his bladder any longer. He stood up carefully and edged towards the bathroom, slightly surprised when there was no protest when he went in and locked the door.

There was a window; it was small and high up, but he guessed he would be agile enough to fit through, even in his current shaky state.

Dean’s voice filtered through the door, interrupting his thoughts. “You wanna try going out the window, be my guest. But don’t expect me to cut you loose when you get stuck.”

In the end Alec decided the possibility of becoming wedged and being left behind wasn’t worth the risk. He relieved himself, splashed some water on his face and slipped back into the main room. He needed to get back to his part of town. He could call in sick for a day or two; Normal would be okay with that. Perhaps Max would know something about his mystery illness?

He pulled up short. Dean was leaning casually across the main doorway.

“So… Alec. How about you tell us a bit about yourself?”

A defensive mask of charm and deflection appeared on Alec’s face. It made Dean uncomfortable; he wondered uneasily if his own mask was as flimsy.

Alec lounged back against the wall, obviously trying to disguise the fact that his knees were visibly shaking. He looked up at Dean through his lashes, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

“You’d be bored.”

“Try me.” Dean crossed his arms.

“There’s nothing to tell. I live in Seattle, I’m a bike messenger. That’s it.”

“A bike messenger?”

“Yeah, you know... parcels, packages.”

“Dean...” Sam jiggled the Impala keys. “He’s not what you thought he was, okay? Let’s drop him off and get out of here. We’re meant to be working a job, remember?”

Dean sighed. Every fibre of his being wanted to know more about this stray, but there was no logical reason for not taking him back into Seattle. Sam was right. The job wasn’t going away. He was going to have to write the encounter off as just another strange event in an even stranger life.

“Yeah, okay.” He picked up his duffle and headed for the Impala, leaving Alec to struggle into his boots.

 

It was a silent ride back into the city.

Alec starting off sprawling on the back seat, playing it cool and trying to convince himself that it wasn’t going to bother him one bit when the brothers dropped him off and drove away. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life wishing he’d found out more about them.

As the Impala growled into the main streets he sat forwards a little. Seattle looked… odd. Too clean, too busy. Smartly dressed people and shiny cars wherever he turned. No graffiti, no trash, no crumbling infrastructure. At first he didn’t even recognise the street where he’d collapsed.

“Here you are dude.”

Dean pulled up next to the alleyway. He’d intended to just drive off, but there was something distinctly off about Alec’s expression as he climbed wordlessly out of the car. Every instinct pinging, Dean put the Impala in ‘park’ and stepped out onto the sidewalk instead.

Alec was staring up the alleyway, his shoulders tense.

“Alec?”

Alec turned to look at him. He appeared confused, maybe even scared?

“Alec? You okay there?”

His double looked suddenly very young, very vulnerable and very ill.

“Have you got some place to go?”

It seemed as though Alec was about to speak, but his gaze slipped past Dean to focus on something up in the air. His breath puffed out in a little shocked huff and the remaining color in his face leached away.

Dean turned on his heel, staring behind and above him. Nothing. Just buildings and the Space Needle outlined against the blue sky.

Alec froze. The Space Needle was pristine, undamaged. He swung his head back to look at the street, back again at the Space Needle.

This wasn’t the Seattle he knew. This wasn’t the place he’d left his bike and parcels. He understood, with horrifying clarity, that in this place there was no Max, no Joshua, no Jam Pony.

He’d lost his unit.

He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what had happened.

He was lost.

“Alec! Come on man, breathe! Deep breaths, come on.”

A hand was rubbing his back, another holding his shoulder. Alec found he was on the Impala seat, his feet on the sidewalk and his head between his knees.

He followed orders, dragged in some air, then some more.

When he managed to raise his head, he realised the only things he knew now were the Impala and the two men at his side.


	4. Chapter 4

They were starting to attract attention.

“Look man, you’re still really sick. Let’s get off the main drag here and park up. When you feel up to it, maybe you can direct us to your place, or a friend’s, get you some help, okay?” Sam’s voice was quiet, instinctively pitched to be reassuring.

Alec didn’t reply, but he folded his legs back into the Impala without protest.

Sam shut the door and after a moment’s hesitation walked around and climbed in next to him. The younger man was making a visible effort to get himself together but seemed temporarily robbed of speech. Sam was willing to hazard a guess that ‘speechless’ and ‘Alec’ didn’t usually go together in the same sentence.

No-one spoke until Dean pulled the Impala into the back end of a store parking lot. He turned in his seat, looking back at Alec.

“So you gonna tell us what’s going on? I know you’re sick, but back there, that was something else. What did you see?”

Alec swallowed convulsively. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

Sam peered at him from under his too-long bangs. “You might be surprised. We see some pretty strange things in our line of work.”

Alec gritted his teeth. Manticore was gone, but somehow Psy-Ops must’ve gotten to him anyway. This couldn’t be real. Whole cities didn’t regenerate overnight. This entire situation must be an elaborate set-up. His mind was spinning. Nothing in his intense training programme had prepared him for the disappearance of his entire world.

Sam was persistant. “Come on Alec… you can tell us. Whatever it is, we might be able to help.”

Alec squared his jaw. “I’m hallucinating. Someone’s messed with my head. I gotta get back to my friends.”

“Hallucinating. You been smokin’ something buddy? Popping some pills there?”

“Dean!” Sam could feel his face twisting into the expression Dean loved to call his bitch face. He smoothed it out with an effort. “We’ll drive you wherever you need to go, okay. Right Dean?”

Dean sighed. The last thing he needed now was someone else having some sort of visions. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence? He stared at Alec, wondering what to do. They had enough problems already.

Alec met his gaze; the defensive mask was entirely gone, ripped away by something that had clearly shaken him to the core. His expression of naked confusion and fear was one Dean had seen before, in his own mirrored reflection in the privacy of a locked bathroom.

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “No problem dude. Where are we headed?”

.

Alec directed them hesitantly through a maze of streets, occasionally winding down the window and peering up at the tops of the buildings as though something above street level could guide him.

“Pull over here,” he said suddenly.

Dean swung into the nearest gap, nearly taking off the front end of a green Honda. “Friggin’ cities,” he returned the driver’s gesture with vigor.

Alec was staring at a smart apartment block, his expression one of despair.

“You live here?” Sam was impressed.

The response was bleak. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Well do you or not!” Frustration edged into Dean’s voice.

“Funny, I’ve been asking myself the same question.” The mask was slipping smoothly back into place. “Look, it’s been great, but I’m gonna get going now. I’m sure you’ve got some place to be and… Where the hell are you going!”

The Impala was nosing back into the traffic. “Look kid, you seem a little confused. I’m not dumping you in the middle of this hell hole.” Dean glowered at the fancy buildings and smartly dressed people. “Direct me someplace else.”

Part of Alec wanted to leap out into the traffic, but the way his luck was turning he figured he’d probably end up underneath a truck. Reluctantly he navigated their way to Jam Pony.

“Well, that just sucks.” The building that had housed Jam Pony was there, in the right place… but there was no Jam Pony. No angrily gesticulating Normal, no bikes sweeping in and out of the entrance, not a messenger or a parcel in sight.

Alec slammed his fist down on top of the bench seat in front of him. “Shit!”

“What’s going on Alec?” Sam still somehow managed to sound calm. Alec stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m goin’ crazy. Okay? Outta my skull crazy. ‘Cause yesterday morning I came out of that apartment block back there, only it wasn’t THAT apartment block… I came here to work, at Jam Pony, which isn’t fucking here now!”

On a roll now, figuring he had nothing left to lose, Alec gestured wildly at the surrounding city.

“This is Seattle, right? But it’s not MY Seattle. Yesterday everything was all shot to hell, falling apart. You couldn’t even have driven the route we just came without a sector pass! Where’s all the graffiti, where’s the sector police? How did everything get so goddamned clean all of a sudden…”

He could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate. “… who fixed the Space Needle! Who does that!”

“Whoa, Alec! Slow down. Calm down.”

“CALM DOWN! My whole fucking world just disappeared man! This has gotta be that bastard White, or Manticore! They’ve brainwashed me! You’re working for them!”

Images of his torture in Psy-Ops crashed into his mind. He had to get away. Alec launched himself at the door, kicking out in terror at the large figure looming next to him. His fingers were already pulling at the handle when Dean leaned over the front seat and slapped him hard across the face. Alec stopped; his jaw dropping in shock as Dean moved his hand to the front of his jacket and shook him slightly.

The movement saved Dean’s life. Alec was already blurring; his hand moving in an automatic lethal strike when his nostrils filled with Dean’s scent. Somehow he managed to pull the blow, smashing the side of his hand onto the bench seat instead. The frame of the seat cracked loudly.

Two shocked pairs of green eyes stared at each other. Sam made a little noise of distress.

Dean spoke without releasing his grip. “You’re no postman. What the hell are you?”

Alec realised that he was staring into the steady muzzle of a nickel plated colt, levelled at him over the top of the bench seat. He hadn’t even seen Dean move. No Ordinary should be able to move that fast. He froze, the throb of the pulse in Dean’s wrist audible to his sensitive hearing. There was no hesitation in the eyes boring into his.

Dean spoke without breaking eye contact.

“Sammy? Get out. Get in the front.”

Sam obeyed without question. He settled in the passenger seat, the muzzle of a Taurus joining that of the Colt. The steadiness of his hand and the wounded expression on his face did not sit well together.

Dean’s voice was pure gravel. “One wrong move, I put a bullet in you. Got it? You’re about four seconds away from being put out on the sidewalk. Give me one good reason why you’re not there already.”

Alec could sense the white coats of Psy-Ops closing in on him, just out of sight. He was so confused. He’d made a mistake, turned on his own unit. He was going to be punished.

“No reason,” he whispered, all the fight draining out of him. He needed to retreat.

“I’ll go.” He turned big eyes to Sam, careful not to move his body in any way.

“My bad… sorry. Thought you were someone else… “

Alec raised his hand very slowly, fumbled at the door handle and let himself out onto the sidewalk. Just before he broke eye contact with Dean he saw a shadow of something cross over his face; it was almost like regret.

He stumbled away from the car, swallowed almost immediately by the midday crowds.

.

“Was that a flashback?” Sam still didn’t sound angry.

The weapon in Dean’s hand had vanished. He leant over the seat and pulled the rear door closed.

“Not our problem. Daylight is burning; we’ve only got a few hours ‘til dark. This could be our last chance to catch this freakin’ witch.”

Dean swallowed his regret. Alec was dangerous. It was his job to keep dangerous things away from Sam.

He put the Impala in ‘Drive’ and pulled away. They needed to get parked up by the cemetary, have a look around in the light, get in a good position for later on.

.

Alec stumbled slowly along, his boots dragging and catching on the snags in the sidewalk. He seemed to be walking against the flow of people rushing about their everyday business. It wasn’t a problem; they parted around him like river water around an obstruction. Most ignored him, just a few taking the time to send sly glances in his direction. He guessed that his white, sweating face and unsteady gait made him look drugged or drunk or both.

He knew he was close to passing out again. He needed to find somewhere quiet, out of sight. He slipped sideways into a maze of alleyways, heading towards the big cemetary.

After a while he saw a dark shadow between two dumpsters and crawled into the gap, curling up on his side against the wall. A piece of grit was digging into his cheek, but he didn’t have the energy to move any more. He blinked lazily, slowly, watching a candy wrapper tremble and twitch in the icy draft funnelling underneath the dumpster. When a stronger gust flicked the wrapper away he just gave up and let his eyes close.


	5. Chapter 5

"How do we even know we're in the right place?"

"Biggest cemetery in town, Sammy. It's like Walmart for grave robbers. That witch'll come, I'll put dollars on it."

"You can't bet money you haven't hustled yet. That's just wrong."

Dean looked a little confused, then brushed it off. "She'll come," he repeated confidently. "And if our research is right, she'll be after old bones."

They were surrounded by a sea of weathered grave markers. Plain headstones, the nibbles of time on their surfaces, faded lettering. A far cry from the extravagant carvings and marbles on the other side of the cemetery.

Why couldn't the hunt be anywhere but a graveyard, Sam thought; the death of their own father was still a raw wound seeping into everything they did. Neither of them had found their feet properly yet and, since his meeting with the crossroads demon, Dean seemed to be teetering along a knife edge between depression and desperation.

They hunkered down in the deep shadows between two large tombs.

"We shoulda brought a pack of cards." Dean's knee was bouncing, waiting around had never been his strongest point.

"Do you think he's okay? Alec?"

Trust Sam to bring up the one thing he'd been trying not to think about. Dean shrugged. "Walking wounded. He's not our problem."

Sam's expression turned stubborn and Dean jostled him lightly with his arm.

"Hey, don't go all chick flick on me. You felt bad for the kid, I get that. But y'know it's probably just 'cause he had my face. Doesn't mean he's a good guy. Keep your mind on the job man."

.

Something was tugging at his boot, sharp, insistent little tugs. Alec drew his knee up towards his chest, hoping it would go away. There was a skittering noise, a pause… then the tugging started up again. The feel of little paws on his shin and the smell of rat arrived simultaneously. He hissed, instinctively kicking out and opening his eyes.

The rat had retreated underneath the dumpster. It regarded him balefully, its eyes red in the dim light spilling into the alleyway. Artificial light, Alec realised. It was almost fully dark. He'd been unconscious for several hours.

Despite the chill of the air, he felt hot; his skin was burning and dry and thirst tore at his throat. He remembered that was why he'd been heading for the cemetery. There were water standpipes there and plenty of shelter among the tombs and grave markers.

He crawled out from his hiding place and pulled himself upright against the dumpster. The rat, cheated of its supper, squeaked at him angrily and scooted away through a gap in the brickwork.

Once he had his balance under control, more or less, Alec began to weave his way forwards. He pulled ineffectually at his jacket as he walked, trying to remove it, but his fingers refused to cooperate and in the end he just gave up.

Even with Seattle altered beyond recognition visually, the layout of the streets and alleyways seemed the same. He could smell molecules of damp earth and trees floating in the wind, providing reassurance that he was heading in the right direction. Sure enough, he emerged from the alley right opposite a low hedge and wrought iron gate; he'd found one of the side entrances into the cemetery.

To his surprise, the Impala was parked in the deeper shadows beside the gate.

Alec aimed at the gateway, the ghost of his reflection passing along the Impala's gleaming paintwork. He guessed she'd been parked there for some time, as only the faintest hint of warmth was still spilling from her hood.

He had an impression of cold ironwork under his fingers. There was a muted squeal as the gate opened; he took a few faltering steps on gravel and then the standpipe was under his hand. He dropped to his knees gratefully, sticking his mouth under the flood of icy water.

.

They'd come expecting a witch, or maybe two, armed with shovels and something to transport the bones. They'd brought as much protection as they could, because who knew what weapons a witch might use. It could be all or nothing. Some powerful necromancer or a teenage wannabe.

What they didn't expect was a demon.

The man looked innocuous enough at first, walking calmly up the lamp lit path towards the older grave markers. When he stepped off onto the wet grass the Winchesters tensed up. Tidily dressed men in shiny shoes don't usually choose to wander around damp graveyards at night. He seemed to know exactly which grave he wanted, heading straight for a simple grey marker and coming to a halt.

He didn't bring a shovel.

A slight flick of one hand and the dirt over the grave was torn apart, as though by a giant plow. The coffin lid split with a sharp crack.

He stepped forwards, peering down into the coffin, then raised his head, sniffing at the air, the obsidian black of the eyes unmistakeable.

"Crap," whispered Dean. "It's a demon."

"Winchesters. I smell _Winchesters_." It smiled, nothing kind in the expression. "Now there's an unexpected bonus."

Dean stood up, moving in front of Sam. He unscrewed the top of the flask of holy water and held it out in front of him.

.

Alec was still on his hands and knees by the standpipe when a swirl of wind brought a vile stench of sulphur to his nostrils. His mind was in chaos, feverish jumbles of Psy-Ops and a man with his eyes, big black cars and rats.

He got to his feet slowly, snuffing into the wind, his cat DNA enabling him to pick up, separate and identify the mixture of aromas floating around him in the night air.

He clearly identified the scent of his unit, overlaid with the sharp notes of their fear and the pervading stink of sulphur. He gathered himself together with a superhuman effort and ran up the path towards the older part of the cemetery.

.

The demon laughed, lazily flicking a small headstone into the air. It flew at Sam; he ducked and twisted away and it shattered against the tomb behind him.

"Now Sam!"

Dean leapt forwards, hurling holy water into the demon's face. There was a sharp, hissing sound as it made contact, causing the skin of its face to bubble and twist. It snarled, enraged, gesturing at Dean.

It was like being hit by a steamroller; Dean was swept from his feet and thrown sideways, bouncing off a tree branch and rolling away between the headstones. He scrambled to his feet, grateful his skull had avoided the grave markers, as Sam began to chant.

"Exorcizarmus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…" The words were cut off abruptly as an invisible force threw Sam backwards into the side of the tomb. He took the impact on his shoulder and slid down to the floor.

Dean rushed towards the demon, but the flask was ripped from his grasp. He felt as though he'd run into a solid wall; he slid to his knees and was flipped sideways into a grave marker, held there by the demon's power.

"…omnis incursio infernalis adversii…" Sam's voice was reedy, cut off again in mid-sentence as he slammed back against the tomb. There was a pause and then Sam screamed.

Dean's fingers sought the flask, easing it towards him. There was still some holy water sloshing in the bottom. He managed to get up, desperation at the sound of Sam's distress lending him strength to fight the demon's hold, but invisible fingers closed around his throat. He choked, feeling a flare of panic as memories of the pain inflicted by the yellow eyed demon rushed back. His vision was starting to fade when something dark blurred past him and crashed with force into the demon.

The demon staggered, thrown off balance. Confusion spread across its face. "Winchester? You can't be." It snatched physically at the man, who seemed to be moving too quickly to allow the demon to focus its mojo. "You shouldn't be here!"

The figure somehow flipped up and over the demon in some sort of exaggerated martial arts move, landed and kicked it viciously in the small of the back, then dropped immediately to the floor and swept it to the ground with a swing of long legs. The demon fell hard.

Momentarily free, Dean lurched to his feet and threw himself forwards. Sam's voice rose behind him… "adversarii, omnis legio…"

Dean prised open the demon's mouth and poured in the holy water.

"...omnis congregatio et secta diabolica...draco maledicte ecclesiam tuam..."

The demon shrieked, steam bubbling from its mouth. Even so it managed to hurl Dean high into the air; he tumbled helplessly, heading straight for a tomb. An arm hooked around his waist, snatching him out of mid-air just before he hit the solid stone.

Sam was shouting now. "...secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!"

The demon shrieked again, black smoke pouring from its mouth as an unexpected explosion of power rippled from its form. Sam dropped behind a grave marker for protection as the main blast hit Dean and the man next to him.

The impact knocked them both off their feet and they rolled; Dean grunted heavily as he took an elbow to the ribs, heard a corresponding, bitten-off yelp as his forehead smacked into someone's teeth. They landed in a tangle of limbs, Dean's face pressed into damp leaves. He tugged at his arm to free it, feeling a trickle of panic when his hand, lying before him on the grass, failed to move. Several heartbeats later he realised his silver ring was missing. It wasn't _his_ hand.

He rolled his head to the right, wrenching it backwards in shock as his nose brushed against someone's cheek.

Alec was lying on his back, half underneath him. He smiled lazily, releasing a thin rivulet of blood that slipped down his cheek and onto the grass.

"Not travelling salesmen then?" he enquired in a mild, conversational tone.

"Dean!" Sam landed on his knees next to them. "Alec?"

"You alright Sammy?" Dean tried to twist his head around to check his brother. "Get me up will ya."

Sam hesitated, in the lamplight it was difficult to tell one limb from another. He rocked back on his heels.

"I think you're gonna have to sort yourselves out."

Dean struggled, freeing his legs and pushing himself up to his hands and knees and then onto his feet. He turned to Sam in concern.

"Are you okay dude, you landed hard."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Alec took him down. I've never seen anyone move that fast."

Alec was still lying on his back on the floor, his eyes focussed on something far overhead.

Dean crouched down next to him. "Alec?"

The dreamy gaze turned slowly in his direction. "What _was_ that?"

"A demon."

"Awesome." Alec's lashes dipped down, raised again wearily. Dean could hear his teeth chattering and wondered if he was going into shock. He laid a hand carefully against Alec's forehead, half expecting to be struck. The skin was burning with fever. To Dean's surprise the younger man just sighed, rolling his head a little into the touch and inhaling deeply.

"Is he injured?" Sam was leaning over them.

Dean was carrying out a quick triage, speaking to Alec reassuringly in a low voice. He looked up at Sam. "I don't think so. He's burning up though, we need to get him outta here."

"The meat suit is dead." Sam's voice was bleak.

"Haven't got time to worry about him Sammy. Give me a hand here."

Sam pulled him to one side. "You're taking Alec with us? Wasn't long ago you were pointing a gun at him."

"Sam, he pulls a stunt like that again and I'm gonna ventilate him. But he just saved our asses man, I ain't gonna leave him here to take the fall for that!" Dean pointed at the corpse of the demon's meat suit, the opened grave.

They hauled Alec upright, threw one of his arms around each of their shoulders and walked him out; he hung in the middle, boots stepping and dragging at random intervals.

"Why'd you help us?" Dean blurted suddenly, suspiciously.

Alec gave him a sloppy grin, his head lolling around a little. "Y'say that like it's a bad thing… just trying to protect my own."

He sounded out of it, drunk with fever. Whatever hidden reserves of energy he'd tapped for the fight were now depleted.

"What do you mean, _your own_?"

Alec tried to look at Dean, leaning more weight on Sam in the process. The words slurred on his tongue. "My unit. You're my unit."

"Dean, leave the interrogation until later. Okay?" Sam sounded exasperated.

Alec tried again to focus on the familiar face level with his own. The fever was burning away the last shreds of his consciousness, but there was something he needed to know.

"You're in charge, right?" He addressed the question to Dean.

Sam huffed, amused and affronted at the same time.

"You're not gonna leave me here are you?" In the wash of light from a street lamp Alec's face looked scared, lost. "Sir?"

Dean could sense the weight of Sam's gaze. He ignored him, taking a better grip of Alec's jacket. He could feel him shaking through the leather.

"Damn right I'm not gonna leave you." Dean's voice was gruff. "I'm gonna regret this… but you're stuck with us dude."

Alec twitched his lips into a little sideways smile. The Impala was in sight. He wasn’t going to make it that far. He sagged, losing his feet entirely.

"Maybe I should let you guys handle this…"

Sam took the extra weight as Alec went limp, tucking him tight against his side in the same way he’d done many times for his older brother. Alec fitted there perfectly. Just like Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best with the latin exorcism, using one the versions quoted in Supernatural. Many apologies to any scholars out there.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time they were half way to the motel, Alec had gone from insensible shivering to semi-conscious delirium. A meaningless jumble of words spilled out of his mouth onto the leather seat. Sam reached round and palmed his forehead, his brow furrowing with concern.

“He’s really burning up, Dean. We need to get him cooled down.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s jaw was tight. “Ice bath?”

“Yeah. He’s gonna fry his brain if he carries on like this.”

Sam was already out of the Impala and bounding through the room door by the time Dean had pulled Alec out of the car.

Alec stared at him out of wide, glazed eyes. He seemed to be trying to stand by himself but his legs weren’t on the same page. Dean leant him up against the side of the Impala, bracing him upright with the side of his own thigh and shoulder as he slammed and locked the door.

Alec reached out and touched Dean’s face, his expression inquisitive.

“Look like me…” he muttered.

“Yeah. Yeah I do.” Dean shivered. It was surreal. The feel of the fingertips against the skin of his face, even the pressure… it was as though it was his own hand.

“You’re not Ben?”

“No. Who the hell is Ben?”

“M’twin.” Alec sounded serious. “He’s crazy.”

“There’s _two_ of you! Awesome.”

“No.” Alec let his head roll back against the Impala. “Ben’s dead.”

Dean flinched. “I’m sorry man.”

Alec shook his head. “Never met him.”

His knees folded. Dean stopped his slide to the floor by leaning in with more body weight. He dragged one of Alec’s arms around his shoulders, grasped him around the waist and walked him unsteadily towards the room. Alec was heavier than he looked.

As they were passing the neighbouring room, a young woman stepped out; Dean pulled up short, gripping hard at Alec’s waist as the sudden change in momentum nearly caused them to lose their balance. She jerked back, startled.

“Sorry! Didn’t see you.” She peered up at them. “Is your brother okay?”

 _Brother?_ Dean caught sight of their reflection in the window. In the dim light, with Alec’s hair now wet and spiky, they were identical.

He gave her a tense grin. “He’s fine. Few too many beers. That right Alec?”

Alec nodded agreeably, his head lolling against Dean’s shoulder. A cheeky little smile crept over his face as he focussed on the woman.

“She’s hot,” he said, in a loud stage whisper, staring at her from under dark lashes.

Dean winced.

“Sorry.”

The woman hid a smile behind her hand, eyes twinkling, as they stumbled past her.

Alec rolled his head back to look at her again as they passed. When he turned back to Dean the smile had dissolved, replaced by a raw look of anguish that shocked Dean with its intensity.

“Pretty… like Rachel.” Alec began to cry, silently, tears slipping down his face.

“Hey kid, don’t do that. Please.” Dean pushed open their door and shuffled Alec inside. The sound of running water filled the room. Sam dashed past him with a bag, heading for the ice machine.

Dean deposited Alec on one of the beds and began to unlace his boots, struggling to get his head around the last few minutes and asking himself why he cared.

“What happened?” Sam was all anxious puppy dog eyes behind him, a bag of ice clutched in his hands.

“I wish I knew.” Dean was feeling out of his depth. He felt Alec’s forehead again. The temperature seemed unnaturally high. “Let’s get him in that water.”

They undressed Alec down as far as his boxers. He was rambling again, eyes unfocussed; he seemed oblivious to the fact that his clothes were being removed. Dean could feel the thuds of his fevered heartbeat through the bones under his fingers, Alec’s hot, dry skin vibrating with each beat like the taut skin of a drum.

 _Sammy will make a good father…_ The thought came unexpectedly as Sam gently manoeuvred Alec into the bathroom. For just a second Dean had an outsider’s view of how Sam must handle him when he was out of it… injured or ill or drunk. It brought an odd twinge of jealousy, quickly pushed aside.

Alec’s compliance went out the window as soon as they sat him on the edge of the tub.

He was strong. Very, very strong and very fast. It took both of them and their combined body weight to get him into the water. He fought them silently, a look of fear on his face.

“Crap!” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to staunch the blood dripping from his nostrils. “If he’s broke my dose, I’m gonna gank him.”

Sam was lying half in the tub, his clothes soaking wet and his left eye already beginning to bruise.

“What’s he on!” Sam spluttered, his hands slipping on wet skin as they tried to get a purchase.

Dean dodged a kick and grabbed hold of Alec’s shoulders, blood from his own nose was dripping into the bath and disappearing in the agitated water. “Alec! Stop!”

Alec began to whimper, his body going rigid as his eyes stared straight past them.

“Alec! Calm down. It’s okay.” Sam’s soothing tones had no effect.

“Don’t drown me again! _Please_!” The words tore through them.

“Whoa! No-one is gonna drown you! You need to calm down.” Sam’s eyes sent a silent plea to his older brother.

Dean remembered Alec had mentioned a unit. He seemed much too young to have served, but it was worth a try.

“STAND DOWN SOLDIER!” Dean thought his father would’ve been proud of his eldest son’s marine sergeant delivery. If his father wasn’t in Hell. Because of him.

Alec froze instantly. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Alec, what’s going on here?”

“No Sir.” Alec’s eyes were huge, earnest, so eager to please. “Not Alec. X5-494. Sir.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam’s hands shaking as he gripped onto Alec’s wrists, his eyes were full of tears. Was that how he’d looked to Sam when he called their father ‘sir’?

Dean fought a flutter of panic. He wasn’t sure if he could cope if both of them had a meltdown. This whole emotions thing wasn’t really his strongest point. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

Then between one heartbeat and the next, Alec relaxed. He blinked, seeming to focus suddenly on Sam.

“Joshua,” he said clearly. Sam looked up, startled.

Alec grinned at him, clearly seeing someone else. “Hey big fella.” The distress of a few moments earlier was gone as one fever hallucination slid seamlessly into another. “You’re a bad dog. You know cats don’t like water.”

Sam’s mouth fell open as Alec reached out and slapped him on the shoulder with an easy grin. There was a fondness in the gesture, like that between good friends.

Dean blinked. His night was turning into some sort of crazy nightmare. He blundered forwards and palmed Alec’s forehead again. He seemed much cooler.

“Sam, I think we can get him out.”

“Yeah.” Sam looked stunned.

They pulled Alec up and out of the water. He looked at them in bewilderment as they dried him off.

“He’s coming out it. Alec? You with us?” Sam made eye contact with Alec, seeing recognition dawn in the tired eyes.

“Let’s get you laid down; you need to get some rest.”

Alec went with them meekly, allowing them to settle him on the bed. He looked exhausted.

Dean checked his temperature again with the thermometer from the First Aid kit; it was still high but a safer figure. He noticed distractedly that the cut from his silver knife had already healed to a thin silvery scar on the back of Alec’s wrist.

There was an unspoken question in his double’s eyes. Dean dropped down on the chair next to the bed.

“I’m gonna be right here. Get some sleep.”

Alec closed his eyes, the gratitude in them unmistakeable.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was hoarse. “Get me the whiskey.”

Sam pressed the bottle into his hand and flopped down on the other bed. He dropped his head in his hands.

“What the fuck, Dean.”

“Yeah,” said Dean. “Just… yeah.”


	7. Chapter 7

 

The dark hours between midnight and pre-dawn were always the worst, when fears are magnified and life itself is somehow more fragile. Dean remembered Bobby saying that 3 am was the ‘Devil’s Hour’. Maybe that was why he’d stayed awake on so many all-night vigils, watching over his father, or his little brother, and now some kid… man, who looked like a carbon copy of his younger self.

In the silence, grief and anxiety seeped easily through the camouflage of _I’m fine_ and painted their shadows across his features. Dean Winchester knew to keep his face hidden during those lonely hours, so he turned the lamp off and sat in the dark watching over Alec’s sleep.

His eyes were gritty with exhaustion; he scrubbed his palms against his closed eyelids, breath hitching at the swell of distress threatening to rise up and choke him.

Sam knew his brother. Knew him better than anyone. Had lived so closely beside him, for so long, that something as simple as a change in the rhythm of his breathing could wake Sam from deep sleep. Not that Sam ever slept deeply now.

The small hitch in breath brought him straight to the surface. He could hear the dry, papery sound of Dean rubbing his eyes. He rolled his head soundlessly towards him.

It made no difference to him that Dean was in shadow. The ghostly light spilling through the curtain was enough to partially illuminate one side of his face, highlighting the edge of his forehead, cheekbone, jaw. Sam could see the slight shine of his lip, the dark curl of eyelashes standing out against the pale light.

He knew, without seeing, that his brother would look a little winded, that the eyes above the bruised shadows would be unfocussed, staring into hell. Their father, who’d sold his soul to save his eldest son, had left behind a legacy of pain that was almost unbearable for Sam and was slowly and surely destroying his brother.

Sam sat up.

"Dean," he whispered.

Dean's head turned to him.

"Sammy." Exhaustion, vulnerability audible even in that single word.

"My watch."

Dean didn't move.

Sam swung himself out of bed and padded across to the chair, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder, enough pressure in the fingers to make it a demand rather than a request.

"You need to sleep. It's my watch." He tugged gently. "C'mon."

There was still no movement. Sam increased the pressure of his fingers, the intensity of his voice. "Dean, this is not your job, not just _your_ burden. We share this one. Okay?"

Dean looked up at him, his eyes shadowed. He nodded slowly.

"C'mon." Sam pulled again.

Dean complied, rising slowly from the chair and moving to the recently vacated bed, his boots catching a little on the carpet. Without a word he dropped forwards onto the crumpled sheets, pulled a pillow into his chest and turned his face away.

Sam eased himself down into the chair, the warmth of Dean's body still in the fabric. He considered removing his brother's boots but Dean’s breathing had already evened out in sleep. Sam didn't want to wake him; the first nightmare would come soon enough.

.

Alec woke silently into the gold of the rising sun. His mind felt clear at last.

He rolled his head to the right. Dean was lying face down on the other bed; he was still fully clothed but his limbs had the loose sprawl of sleep.

 _Still there_.

Alec let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and turned his head towards the window. His gaze met Sam's warm hazel eyes, one of them surrounded by a purpling bruise. The younger Winchester smiled at him, leaning forwards in the chair.

"Hey. Alec. How you feeling?"

Alec swallowed, pushing himself up on his elbows. He blinked and looked around. They were back in the motel room. He couldn't remember much after the cemetery, just vague, confused dreams.

"I, uh, I think I'm okay."

With relief he realised it seemed to be true. Being sick had sucked big time. Okay, so he'd been wounded often enough, beaten, tortured even. But however bad those things were, there was always a real, physical reason why he'd felt so ill. This sickness had been something new. He'd never been sick before. Transgenics didn't get sick, their amped up immune systems made sure of that.

It had scared him. He wondered what would've happened if Sam and Dean hadn't found him. Or he hadn't found them, or whatever.

Alec sat up slowly. No dizziness. He was a little tired, but okay. Really okay. Maybe now he could find out where he was, what had happened.

Sam was holding out a glass of water, watching him intently.

"Drink that first, okay? You were pretty sick last night. You need to get some fluids in you."

Alec drank deeply. He was really thirsty.

A little whisper of movement alerted him to the fact that Dean was awake and pushing himself to a sitting position on the other bed. His tired eyes regarded Alec from a drawn face topped by sleep mussed hair. Alec wondered how much sleep the brothers had managed to get. It gave him a little, warm feeling in his chest, thinking that someone in the world actually gave enough of a damn about him to sit up in the night, make sure he was alright.

He was suddenly, uncharacteristically, shy. He looked up at them through his lashes.

"Thanks. For lookin' out for me."

Sam grinned at him, all youthful dimples and floppy hair.

"No problem dude. So, you’re really feeling okay?"

"Yeah." Alec dipped his chin, his mouth curving in a smile that made the skin around his eyes crinkle cheekily as a sparkle appeared in the green irises.  "I'm hungry. _Really_ hungry."

Sam huffed, smiling, not sure which was funnier, Alec's blatant manipulation or Dean's startled expression at seeing his own tactics used so effectively by someone else.

"Breakfast run. I got it." Sam snagged the Impala's keys. He raised an eyebrow in Dean's direction. "Usual?"

"Yeah. And make it a big coffee."

"Alec?"

"Another one of those burgers?" Alec looked hopeful. "I could eat two? And milk."

"Sure thing dude." Sam couldn't hide his smile. It looked as though their credit cards were going to be taking a hammering if Alec and Dean shared the same appetite as well as looks.

.

The sound of the Impala growling her way off the parking lot seemed to shake Dean from a stupor. He pushed himself onto his feet.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower?" He raised an eyebrow at Alec. "You alright for a minute?"

"I'm good." Alec might be a multi-million dollar genetically engineered super soldier, but it didn't offend him one bit to be asked if he was going to be alright, sitting in a locked motel room for a few minutes by himself.

He waited until the water started running and then got up slowly. Everything seemed to be in working order and he stretched carefully, freeing his muscles of the last tightness of his fever.

Dean emerged a few minutes later in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist. He headed for his duffle, gesturing to the bathroom.

"All yours dude. There's a clean towel in there. I'll sort you some clothes; your gear is soaking."

He eyed Alec critically, wondering if his own belly had ever looked so hollow. He guessed it probably had; there hadn't always been that much to eat when John got back a few days, or weeks, later than expected from a hunt. He clamped down hard on any thoughts of his father and hunted through his bag, pulling out a spare set of clothes for Alec. They should fit, they were pretty much the same size.

Alec's voice came from the bathroom. "This is hands down the best shower I've been in… the water is like seriously hot!" There were sounds of appreciation for a few minutes and then Alec re-appeared, hair wet and spiky and smelling strongly of Sam's shampoo.

Dean wrinkled his nose and tossed the spare clothes at him. “Wear your own boots and jacket."

Alec pulled the clothing on quickly. It fitted him well enough, just a little loose on the waist and shoulders. He admired himself in the mirror, then flicked a glance at Dean.

"What’s with all the layers? You expecting a bad weather front or something?"

Dean was still trying to work out a response when Sam opened the door and stopped short, his head shuttling from Dean to Alec and back again.

He groaned, feeling suddenly out numbered. “That is just weird; you might as well be twins.”

"Yeah," Dean added gruffly. "Twins." He looked at Alec appraisingly. "We'll eat, then I guess we all need to do some caring and sharing, that right Sammy? There's some things you're gonna need to know about us, and you said a few things yesterday yourself. If we're helping you, you’ve gotta be honest with us."

Alec nodded. He figured he’d already put his life in their hands.

.

Until they started talking, Sam had really only noticed the similarities between Alec and his brother. Now he began to see some of the differences.

Dean delivered the ‘monsters are real’ and ‘hunting is the family business’ speech in an intense and slightly challenging growl, winding it up with demons, in particular the yellow-eyed demon.

Alec sprawled on one of the beds, head propped up on one hand, a small smile pulling at his lips and a hint of amusement in his eyes as he listened. He couldn’t have looked more laid back if he’d tried, but Sam had the impression that Alec hadn’t missed a word. The longer Sam observed, the more he thought the casual smirk may be the Alec version of Dean’s impassive glare. Same shield, different design.

When Dean ground to a halt, Alec sat up smoothly and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely between them.

“So…” he said. “Monsters are real. Or you’re both crazy.” He gave them a cheeky grin. “I s’pose now you want me to join in?”

He gave them a smoothly edited version of Manticore and its downfall, genetic engineering and kids with barcodes being created out of cocktails of human and animal DNA, being raised to be super soldiers. Psy-ops, White, the Pulse, and Seattle that wasn’t the Seattle outside their motel room. He left a lot out, but even so by the end Dean’s jaw was tight and Sam looked a little green.

“So hey…” Alec shrugged disarmingly. “Maybe I’m the crazy one.”

Dean stood up slowly. “Suppose we believe you… that doesn’t explain why you can’t recognise Seattle, why we haven’t heard anythin’ about this pulse, or transgenics. I mean, this is 2006 dude, things like that don’t just happen without making the news.”

Alec’s face went very still. He reached out for the t.v. remote and began to flick through channels, pausing for a second or two on each news channel and muttering something about re-runs. When he’d gone right the way through the list, he started again at the top, flicking faster and faster. Abruptly the remote shattered in his grip.

“2006.” He stared at them. “Well that’s great.”

“Alec, what’s wrong?” Sam sounded worried.

“Sorry man, but it looks like crazy runs in the family after all. ‘Cause if this is 2006 then I’m kinda well developed… and I definitely shouldn’t have been doing what I was doing with that girl from Crash the other night…

Alec put his hand inside his jacket, pulled out something from an inside pocket and held it out. It was a card marked ‘Sector Pass’. It was dated 2020.


	8. Chapter 8

The pass trembled in Alec’s fingers. Dean took it from him, turning it over and reading both sides before passing it to Sam.

Alec watched them; he was very white, almost crackling with nervous energy.

“Right,” said Sam, turning the pass over and over in a helpless sort of way as though he was expecting a solution to leap out at him. “So none of us were expecting that. But, y’know, stranger things have happened.”

He looked at Alec, considering what to say. The green eyes were glittering, jaw jumping, just like Dean’s did before he did something really reckless.

“Alec. Chill. _Whatever_ it is that’s goin’ on, we’ll help you, okay?” Sam gave him his most earnest look. He held out the pass.

Alec was like a coiled spring. “You think I’m crazy.”

“No.” Dean’s voice was firm. “Dude, please. We’ve just told you we hunt monsters for a livin’. So if you’re crazy, we’re crazy too. It’s not like we haven’t got other things in common.”

“This is a little different. I _saw_ your demon.” Alec’s knee bounced up and down.

Dean frowned at it, easily recognising his own tells of being about to explode with stress. He needed to calm Alec down. If this was all true, they were going to need clear heads to figure it out. If Alec _was_ crazy, they needed to help him. Either way, Alec taking off wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Alec.” His voice was hard. “You figure I’m in charge of this unit, right?”

Alec nodded, eyes wide. His expression suggested he was under the impression he was about to be thrown out.

Dean sought eye contact, held it. He spoke clearly. “Then stand the fuck down. You’re not goin’ anywhere. We’ll help. That’s what we do, help people.”

Alec bit his lip, surprised, unsure, then straightened his shoulders. “Yessir,” he said, relief and graditude ringing in his words.

“Okay,” said Dean firmly. “And don’t call me Sir. I’m just Dean. Now… you sit here with Sam and tell him everythin’ you can remember, every single detail. Sam’s a genius; if anyone can figure out what’s goin’ on it’ll be him.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed a little, compliments were not handed out lightly in the Winchester world. “Where are you going?” he asked, peering up at Dean from under his bangs.

“I’m not gonna be long. I want to have look down that alley, see where Terminator here fell outta the sky.”

.

Alec talked and Sam took notes, tapping search after search into his laptop. After a while Alec took over the laptop, his fingers flying over the keyboard. They found plenty of sites relating to genetic research but nothing specific to any of Alec’s information.

Accurately reading Alec’s frustration levels, Sam shut the laptop with a decisive move. “Time for a beer,” he said firmly. “This is getting us nowhere, we need a break. Dean’ll be back soon.”

He popped the top off a couple of bottles and passed one over to Alec. “I guess your friends will be looking for you?”

Alec took his beer, avoiding eye contact. He sounded forlorn. “They’ll be pissed they got extra runs when I didn’t show for work. No-one is gonna get all anguished about me not being around, hell they probably won’t even realise I’ve gone. Well… maybe Joshua will.”

“Joshua.” The name triggered a memory. Sam smiled, catching Alec’s eye deliberately, wanting to wipe away the dejected look on his face. “You called me Joshua, when you were out of it.”

Alec looked surprised, then laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Big Fella. He looks kinda like you. A sasquatch, y’know.”

Sam huffed. “Dean calls me that. Sasquatch. This Joshua looks like me?”

“Well…” Alec’s eyes narrowed; a sly smile appearing. “He’s big, like you. Lotsa hair… it’s all that dog DNA.”

“What! Dog. Great. You’re Dean’s double and I get a part-man, part-dog for a lookalike.”

Alec cackled, clearly delighted. Sam punched him on the arm, in a friendly sort of way. _Job done_ , he thought.

.

The Impala slotted neatly back into the same parking spot, just to one side of the alley entrance.

The street was fairly busy, in a mid-morning sort of way. No-one paid any attention to Dean as he shrugged himself further into his leather jacket and faced into the chill air blowing from the dark maw of the alleyway.

The light was dim in between the tall sides of the buildings; they were tall enough and so close together it was unlikely sunlight ever reached floor level even in the height of the summer. It was colder than the main street, but at first glance it was just your average alley. A narrow dead end, empty except for two garbage bins.

Dean stepped into the shadows, giving his eyes time to adjust. He worked his way slowly up one side of the alley and then back down the other. It was so narrow it was claustrophobic; the buildings seemed to tower over him as though they would collapse inwards without warning. He swallowed, feeling his pulse start to pick up pace. Flashlight, he thought, dragging it from his pocket and directing the beam along the deeper shadows where the walls met the floor. If Alec, a bike and a bag full of parcels had fallen over in this area, there had to be something.

When he reached the first bin, he lowered himself to his hands and knees and peered underneath. The cold struck immediately through his jeans and into his kneecaps, numbing the fingers of the hand he was using to support himself. A stench of rotting food and maggots flooded into his nostrils, the aroma so strong he could actually taste it. Dean swallowed, fighting against an urge to gag.

The reek from the next bin was even worse and he was about to give up when he saw a square corner sticking out from behind the round bin wheel. The flashlight revealed a small parcel crushed between the wheel and the brick wall. Dean dragged the heavy bin forwards a little and bent down to retrieve it.

“Yahtzee,” he muttered, reading the date stamp across the address. “2020.”

He straightened up, holding onto the side of the bin for a second or two. _Head rush_ , he thought bitterly, _awesome… not enough sleep, way too much caffeine and another person to worry about, just what I friggin’ needed._

The smell of the bins was making him feel really nauseous, so he made his way out to the Impala and drove off, the little parcel on the seat beside him. He wasn’t too surprised when he had to pull over and throw up his breakfast on the way back to the motel. He was starting to worry that he might have caught Alec’s illness.

.

Dean walked in as Alec was explaining to Sam about his barcode. He caught the tail-end of the conversation.

“So those gene cooks called you by a number?” he asked, incredulous. “They didn’t even give any of you kids a name?”

“I’m X5-494,” confirmed Alec. “I didn’t have a name until Max decided to call me Alec.”

“Max; is he one of those scientist douchebags?”

Alec smiled. “No, Max is a female X5. She said I had to have a name, called me Alec, for smart alec.”

It sounded as though Max had Alec all figured out Sam thought. “If Max cared enough about you to give you a name, I guess she’ll be wondering where you are?”

Alec snorted derisively. “Max doesn’t care much about me. She was my designated breeding partner.”

“Your what?” Dean’s eyebrows flew up. “Did you just say breeding partner? Is that what I think it is? She was like, allocated to you?”

He snorted at Alec’s nod. “Dude! Couldn’t you get your own action? Don’t you know how to work this face! I know I’m adorable, you gotta be doing it all wrong!”

Alec glowered at him.

“So, this Max, is she your chick? No? Well I guess at least you had some good times, huh?”

Alec looked embarrassed. “Max doesn’t like me. At all.”

Dean grinned. “She turned you down? Really! You need to watch and learn kid.”

Alec snarled at him. “I don’t need any lessons from you. It’s just Max, she’s kind of aggressive.”

Dean dropped the package next to him, slapping him on the shoulder with a smirk. “Don’t worry about it. I got good news. This turned up at point X; look at the date.”

Alec stared at the packet, gripping it hard as though he was afraid it would disappear. “2020, he muttered. “Now what?”

Dean shivered suddenly, his stomach choosing that moment to roll. He forced a grin. “It’s like Back to the Future, Sam.” His neck had begun to sweat and he swallowed awkwardly.

Sam’s voice was sharp. “Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean waved him off and slammed his way into the bathroom. Minutes later they heard the unmistakeable sound of someone throwing up. The toilet flushed, the tap ran briefly and Dean emerged, looking pale and sweaty. He flopped down on a bed and glowered at Alec.

“Dude, I get sick, I’m gonna take it outta your hide.”


	9. Chapter 9

_“Dude, I get sick, I’m gonna take it outta your hide.”_

_…_

Dean rolled back slowly on the bed, he dropped his arm over his face in a weary motion.

"We're well past check out, right?" he said, the words muffled slightly by the corner of his sleeve.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "You might as well get some rest."

For a while there was silence. They all looked wrecked, Sam thought. Dean was flat on his back, his arm still over his eyes, the draglines of exhaustion clearly visible at the side of his mouth, bruises splashed vividly on his pale throat. Alec perched on the edge of the other bed, his knee was bouncing again, brows drawn down on a face that was still too pasty for Sam's liking. Sam was sure he didn't look any better himself. His eyelids felt swollen with lack of sleep and his shoulder was sore and stiff, courtesy of his collision with the stone tomb. Was that really only the night before?

"I checked," he volunteered. "There's no sign of demon activity."

"Good," muttered Dean. "There's nothing keeping us in this friggin' City then."

He swung back up to a sitting position, flapping a calming hand in the direction of Alec's small sound of protest.

"Look dude, there’s nothin’ else in that alleyway. We've already driven round Seattle and found diddly-squat. Let's face it, no one you know is gonna be around for what, another 14 years? Not in _Seattle_ anyhow."

Alec raised his head. "Manticore," he breathed.

"Yeah," said Dean. "Manticore. It'll already be there, right?"

There was an angry gleam in his eye. Sam had visions of them breaking into Manticore and destroying the facility, leaving them with dozens, maybe even hundreds, of genetically enhanced children on their hands.

“Dean, we can’t just go bursting into a secret government facility!”

“We’re not busting in anywhere, not yet. I just want to go check it out.”

Sam pursed his lips, considering. "But what if Alec meets himself? Isn't that going to screw up the space time continuum or something?"

"Kinda late to be worrying about that." Dean frowned at Sam. "What! I know what that means, I've seen 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure'. Stop treating me like I'm dumb, dude."

Sam raised his hands in surrender. His brother had a Pop Culture reference for just about everything.

Dean rubbed at his throat in an absent-minded way. He swallowed, grimaced and headed for the bathroom. The sound of teeth being scrubbed vigorously drifted through the doorway. He emerged several minutes later with his wash kit in his hand.

"Dean!" Sam protested. "Manticore will still be there tomorrow."

"We're wasting time here, Sammy." Dean threw the wash kit into his duffle. His face was grim as he confronted Sam across the table. He was clearly on edge, his hands clenching and unclenching until he crossed his arms and tucked his fists tight into the fold of his elbows, almost as though he was afraid they might fly out and knock something off the table.

Alec watched them, his face curious, clearly aware that this was some kind of power struggle.

Deciding to cut the crap short, Sam unashamedly played the little brother card.

"My shoulder is really kind of sore, I could use a night in a bed and these beds are paid for..."

Sam threw in the puppy dog eyes to seal the deal. Dean visibly deflated, sinking down onto a chair. Alec smirked at Sam over Dean's shoulder, clearly appreciating the manoeuvre. Despite the smirk he also looked a little relieved. It came as no surprise that willingly approaching Manticore made Alec nervous, especially with the probability that he could run into his younger self. None of them could begin to guess at the possible implications of that.

.

They hit the road early the next morning, heading down the I-90 East for Gillette, Wyoming, the location of the Manticore facility up until 2009. Dean drove, brushing off Alec’s request to get behind the wheel with a raised eyebrow and a firmly slammed door. His face was impassive, set, making it impossible to guess whether he felt better or worse. He turned the music up loud and left it that way.

Sam took over the wheel half-way through the 15 hour drive. When they closed in on Gillette, Alec gave directions from the back seat, not seeming to need the aid of a map. He was tense, his comments becoming more and more clipped the nearer they got to Manticore.

They left the Impala parked up behind some brush, about two miles short of where Alec recalled the boundary fence had been located.

He led the way, slipping silently through the trees and brush. The Winchesters followed, cautious, quiet, every one of their hunters’ senses alive.

Alec came to a halt in the location of the perimeter fence. It wasn’t there. He checked carefully; the tree growth pattern corresponded with that in his memory, less a few years increase in height and girth of each individual tree. The angle of the slope was as expected.

He glanced back at the brothers. “Uh, I guess they put the fence down in this area after 2006?” He couldn’t remember for sure when he’d first seen the fence in this particular area, but he thought he’d been quite young, maybe only six or seven.

He moved on slowly, knowing they were now close to the facility. His pulse quickened with anticipation, a prickle of fear passing over his skin. When they reached the final rise he crouched, motioning at the Winchesters to wait. A short leopard-crawl brought him into a position where he could look down onto the Manticore buildings. He lay on his belly, raised his head cautiously and caught his breath. For a long moment he just stared.

“Alec!” Dean’s voice hissed behind him.

The air burned in Alec’s lungs. His fingers dug deep into the wet earth, almost as though he was trying to prevent himself floating off into thin air. Moisture from the damp leaf litter seeped through his clothing, cold against the skin of his thighs and stomach. He couldn’t move. The clearing below him was empty save for a ramshackle shed. The forbidding buildings of Manticore were nowhere to be seen.

A warm body crept up beside him. Sam’s voice. “You’re definitely in the right place?”

Alec nodded, trying to force the air back out of his lungs and failing.

A hip nudged against his on the other side. Dean.

“Alec?”

Alec turned his head slowly, his pulse thumping in his ears, expecting anger, loud words of rejection. Dean’s eyes met his; they held his gaze, sorrowful green eyes staring into scared green eyes. Dean’s face was worried. Without saying anything at all he dropped a heavy arm over Alec’s shoulders and pulled him into his side. Alec’s breath puffed out all at once and he dropped his face into the fragrance of damp earth.

He felt Sam move closer on his other side, the vibration of his calm voice thrumming into Alec’s ribs. “It’s okay buddy. We’ll find the answer. You’re not alone.”


	10. Chapter 10

The nocturnal life of the forest carried on around them as though nothing of any great significance had occurred, unaware that the existence of one Alec McDowell, or X5-494, had just been torn right off its foundations.

Alec wasn't sure how long he lay with his face pressed into the damp earth; he was tail-spinning, only the warmth of the bodies on each side of him and the solid weight of Dean's arm anchoring him.

The brothers were talking over his lowered head, but he couldn't be bothered to decipher the words. He was scared of Manticore... terrified... but right now, sight of the imposing buildings would have been a massive relief.

"C'mon Alec." Dean's voice, mere inches from his ear, broke through the fog.

He allowed himself to be hoisted upright, suffered the indignity of being brushed down, didn't even protest when mud was thumbed off his face in the beam of the torchlight. He felt oddly numb, detached from reality. Now that was a joke, because he was detached right enough, detached or just plain nutty.

They were half-way back to the Impala before he found his voice.

"Do I _seem_ crazy to you? 'Cause I think it's the only logical explanation."

There was a snort beside him. Sam. "Logic! Can’t put too much faith in that."

"Yeah? Well see, there's no other explanation. Everything I can remember, it's not real."

Alec's pace quickened as his subconscious urged him to run away. He was pulled up short when Dean dodged in front of him.

"Easy, slow down there. Look at me; you want to use logic, use it. You're here, right? Well you're proof."

Alec blinked, confused.

Dean elaborated, his voice steady, reassuring. "You're all amped up, yeah? So prove it. If you can show us some Superman mojo then it's all true, right? And that'd mean you're just kinda in the wrong place. And that we'll fix, somehow."

Alec ground his palms into his eyes. Of course. His commanding officers at Manticore would not be impressed at their super soldier’s powers of analysis. That sickness must have scrambled his brains. The situation had just been accurately assessed by an Ordinary. Except Dean didn’t really come across as ordinary, no more than Sam did.

Time to get a hold of himself. “Okay,” said Alec firmly, raising his chin.

Dean’s eyes crinkled, he bit his lip, eyes glinting with the reflected light of the full moon.

“What?!” said Alec, puzzled.

“You look like a freakin’ panda!”

“Oh, yeah.” Muddy hands. Alec swiped at his eyes quickly with his cuff before anyone could wipe his face for him. Enough was enough. He wasn’t used to this brusque sympathy. Actually he wasn’t used to having any sympathy at all.

He led the way back to the Impala, not bothering to use a torch. He could see pretty well in the dark so perhaps at least he hadn’t been imagining all his enhanced senses.

.

A few miles away from the Manticore site that wasn't, Dean stopped the Impala.

"We need to sleep," he said, his voice gruff with weariness. "Sleep, eat and then Alec here can show us his awesome super powers."

He slid down in his seat before anyone could comment, crossed his arms and shut his eyes. Conversation over.

"I'll sit up front," Alec offered. "I don't need much sleep anyhow."

Sam nearly turned him down, but thought better of it. He was really too tall to sleep in the passenger seat with a bad shoulder. He stretched out in the back and was asleep before Alec stopped shuffling.

It seemed he'd only been asleep for a few minutes when an incoherent mumble jerked him awake. Dean was shifting restlessly, the sound of his breathing increasingly distressed. Alec was already unfolding from his position by the door and he reached across to Dean, the moonlight bright enough that Sam could see the worried frown on his face.

Sam opened his mouth to warn Alec that a sleeping Dean was one that shouldn't be approached too closely, but it was too late; Dean's fist was already in motion, aimed with sickening speed at Alec's face. The blow never landed. Alec moved, too fast for Sam's eyes to follow, ducking his head out of the way and catching the fist in his hand. He said something quickly to Dean, so low-voiced that Sam didn't catch the words despite his proximity. Dean didn't awaken fully, blinking slowly at Alec and mumbling something back. Then, to Sam's intense surprise, he subsided against the door and closed his eyes again.

Sam raised himself quietly to a sitting position. Alec glanced back, shrugged a little and slid back down. After a while Sam drifted back to sleep, his brain fumbling over the fact that his brother had just uncharacteristically accepted reassurance from a virtual stranger.

.

_Max popped her head around the door frame. “Hey big fella! Whatcha doin?”_

_Joshua lounged in his tatty armchair; he raised his head slowly. “Hey little fella.” He sounded miserable._

_Max scanned the room quickly. Nothing seemed out of place, or rather everything seemed as out of place as usual. Joshua’s canvas of Alec was in the centre of the room, an array of open tubes and dirty brushes scattered over the little table in front of it._

_She smiled warmly at Joshua. “Still not finished that, huh?”_

_“No. No medium fella to paint now.”_

_“What? Has Alec not been callin’ on you?” She fumed inwardly. It was typical of Alec to forget to call on Joshua when he knew she would be tied up for a couple of days._

_“Medium fella gone.”_

_She felt a spark of irritation. Alec hadn’t shown at work either. Most probably he was with some girl, or girls. “He’s probably just doin’ some personal stuff. He’ll show up in a coupla days.”_

_Joshua shook his head mournfully. “No. Alec gone. Big fella not sure where he is.”_

_“Hey Joshua.” Max reached up and cupped his face for a moment. “Alec is a big boy. He can take care of himself. Okay?”_

_Joshua nodded, sorrow in his eyes. “Little fella stayin’ for some mac and cheese?”_

_“I’m sorry big fella. I gotta get to work. I’ll call back later, okay?”_

_Max threw a leg over her bike, pushing down the tiny shoot of concern that was trying to take root. When she got hold of Alec she was going to slap him upside the head, hard._

.

Sam didn’t wake again until first light. Easing himself back upright in the grey dawn was a slow business; his shoulder had stiffened and would definitely benefit from the application of some ibuprofen gel as soon as they passed a pharmacy.

Realising that, for the first time in weeks, Dean had only woken him once with his nightmare ridden ramblings, Sam peered over the front seat. He grinned, biting back a chuckle. Alec and cat DNA, maybe it was true after all. Dean could sprawl with the best of them when he wanted to, but Alec had taken it to a whole new level. He was lying on his back, angled in towards the seat back. One long arm and leg trailed off the edge of the seat while his other boot was propped up on the edge of the door glass. The side of his face was squashed into the leather of the seat back, with the top of his head wedged into Dean’s hip. The resemblance to the arrogant sprawl of a feline was unmistakeable.

Despite his best intentions, Sam snorted. Dean’s eyes snapped open immediately, focussing in horror first on the muddy boot on the Impala’s door panel and then on the head almost in his lap. There was brief pause and then an outraged yell of “Dude!”

Alec rolled up in one fluid movement, his back hitting the opposite door and his wide, sleepy eyes fixing on Dean in amazement.

Sam collapsed on the back seat, shaking with laughter.

Dean peered around Alec, getting a good view of the muddy boot prints on the Impala’s door panel and window. His eyes narrowed to slits.

“Now might be a good time for you to demonstrate your superpowers, ‘cause I’m tellin’ you, anybody does that…” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the mud for emphasis. “…is gonna get punched!”

Alec’s gaze slid to the side; his eyebrow lifting as he saw the offending prints. Dean launched at him across the width of the Impala but Alec already had the door open, rolling out backwards and bounding to his feet as Dean catapulted himself through the passenger door in pursuit.

Alec crowed with delight, his face lighting up with youthful enthusiasm. He retreated a little, bouncing around as though he was in a fighting ring. He made a beckoning gesture to Dean with his hands.

“C’mon then! Let’s see how Ordinary Me can do against the all improved model!”

Dean growled something incomprehensible and leapt forwards, his fingers slipping off the edge of Alec’s jacket as he blurred. Sam blinked, his expression of shock mirrored on his brother’s face.

“Sonofabitch!” Dean adjusted his expectations and plan of attack rapidly, automatically slipping into hunter mode. This wasn’t the first unexpectedly fast and powerful being he’d faced. He walked forwards slowly, lightly balanced on the balls of his feet.

“So… these awesome genes of yours, all you can do is run off faster?” He smirked at Alec, echoes of the same youthful enthusiasm bringing a glint to his eye and a curl to his grin.

The game was on and for a while it seemed the playing field was level. Two different techniques, transgenic speed and strength versus monster fighting experience. Kicks and punches rapidly turned into a full on wrestling match, a tangle of identical limbs. Sam hovered on the periphery, ready to leap in and use his greater bulk to bring a stop to things if, or when, it got too serious. Hopefully it wouldn’t escalate to that level; he could see no way of interceding without sustaining at least a minor injury.

Dean was far faster and stronger than he should have been. Alec struggled, not wanting to cause injury, but finding it difficult to restrain himself given the pressure he was under from the older Winchester’s attack. After a few minutes of lightning fast blows being exchanged, he released his full strength for a moment, enabling him to flip Dean over and onto his back. Alec dropped down on top of him, forearm in position in a good choke hold and for what would ultimately be a fatal strike. Pain flickered briefly on Dean’s face and Alec relaxed the pressure immediately, feeling a little shocked that he’d given in to his natural instincts so completely.

Dean caught the look in his eyes at the same instant as the pressure against his throat eased; he reacted immediately, flipping and restraining Alec in one swift move, his full body weight pinning the younger man to the ground as he stared at him from a distance of a few inches.

Alec grunted, not resisting. The fight was over and whether he’d conceded victory or not, as the loser he was trained to expect immediate and brutal punishment. Dean pulled up slightly. The vicious blow was coming. Alec flinched, adrenaline pulling the color from his face. He closed his eyes, waiting.

The expected blow didn’t come. Dean’s breath puffed warm against his face and Alec lifted his eyelids cautiously, wondering at the cause of the sorrow dragging at the other man’s face.

“I’m not gonna hit you, kiddo. I wouldn’t _hurt_ you.” Dean’s voice was gruff. He rolled away and onto his feet, reaching down to haul Alec upright. Alec rose smoothly, confusion and relief mingling on his face.

Sam cut through the awkwardness, slapping them both on the back. “You’re fast!” He grinned easily at Alec, showing his dimples.

Alec’s mask of good humor slipped rapidly back over his features. He relaxed his stance and dipped a nod at Dean. “And you’re a lot faster than you should be. Not bad for an Ordinary.”

“Ordinary!” Dean huffed. “Dude, I am far from ordinary!”

“You both look like freaks to me.” Sam’s smile took any sting out of the words. “How ‘bout we get some breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Dean rubbed gingerly at his ribs, eyeing Alec with new respect. “And then Superboy here has some cleaning to do.”

.

_“What’s up, boo?”_

_Max lifted her head to find Original Cindy peering at her, a concerned frown on her face._

_“Nothin’.” Max shrugged._

_“Sugar, don’t front. You can tell Original Cindy. You been outta sorts all mornin'.”_

_Max sighed. “It’s Joshua.”_

_“Doggie-dog?”_

_“Yeah. He’s kinda upset. Alec hasn’t been by in a few days.”_

_Original Cindy pursed her lips. “Mmm. Come to think of it, I ain’t seen your boy for mebbe four, five days now. You think he’s out cattin’ around?”_

_Max shrugged. “I’ll ask Normal later. Anyone knows what’s goin’ on with his golden boy, it’ll be him. And Alec’s **not** my boy.”_


	11. Chapter 11

In the end, Dean pulled into a drive-thru on the outskirts of Gillette.

"Drive-thru breakfast?" Sam queried in surprise. Dean normally preferred going into a diner; it was a chance for them to stretch their legs for a while and of course there was always the possibility of a flirty waitress.

"Yeah." Dean flicked his eyes briefly in the direction of the back seat, raising one brow a little.

Sam glanced casually backwards, as though he was checking out the lurid panel advertising burgers and fries and super-sized milkshakes. Alec was slumped against the door, staring morosely at the back of the front seat, the muscle in his jaw working as he ground his molars.

Sam raised his chin fractionally in Dean's direction, in unspoken acknowledgement and agreement. "Okay," he said agreeably. "Breakfast to go is good."

Alec's head lifted lethargically as they jolted over the lip of the drive-thru lane.

"What are you eatin' Alec?" Dean queried casually, already winding down his window.

Alec shrugged, gnawed at his lower lip and then muttered, "Milkshake, plain."

Dean ordered, adding an extra sausage'n'egg bagel for Alec. He parked up at the far end of the parking lot and dumped the bagel and super-sized drink onto Alec's lap, waving down his protest before it was spoken.

"You'd better have something for that fast metabolism of yours." Sam's voice was all reason and calm. "Once Dean hits the road it's kind of hard to get him to pull over 'til Baby runs out of gas."

Dean scowled. "I never let my Baby run outta gas. It's bad for the carburetor. You should know that Sammy."

They ate in silence for a while, Alec doing little more than poking miserably at his bagel. It was obvious that the full implications of the previous night's discovery were sinking in.

Sam decided to take the bull by the horns. "So… there's nothing to see here or in Seattle. I guess if there isn't a Manticore facility here in Gillette in 2006, there won't be one up near to Seattle either."

Alec stopped drinking; he kept his head down, although it was obvious that he was listening intently.

"We're only a few hours out of South Dakota?" Dean offered.

"Yeah," said Sam firmly. "Bobby. He's got more research material and contacts than anyone else we know. And it'll be somewhere to hole up for a few days; it'll give us time to get our heads around everything."

Dean flipped his cell open, pressing the speed-dial for Bobby.

"Bobby… yeah, yeah… Uh, we're about 6 hours out. You think we could crash there for a coupla days?... No, we're fine. Tell y'about it when we get there… Err Bobby? You're probably gonna want to test for shapeshifters and… well I dunno what the hell else. Just don't shoot us, okay?"

There was a brief burst of static and some gruff grumbling and then the call ended abruptly. Dean swallowed, smiled nervously and pocketed his phone. "Bobby's okay with that," he said carefully.

Sam stretched an arm casually along the back of the front seat and sent an encouraging smile in Alec's direction. "Bobby's an old friend, more like family really. He'll help us figure things out."

Alec eyed him in a disbelieving manner. He slugged the rest of his milkshake, stuffed the remains of his bagel into the empty cup and shrugged. "Okay."

Five minutes out of Gillette he slouched down against the door again, folded his arms and shut his eyes. Dean watched him in the rear view mirror, the little frown line between his brows deepening as he powered the Impala towards South Dakota.

.

" _No, Missy Miss!" Normal's tone was even more acidic than usual. "I do not know where the boy wonder has gone… Hey you! Hot run, sector nine!" He hurled a packet at Sketchy's back and flapped his hand angrily in the direction of the exit._

_Max put on the sweetest smile she could muster. "I was wonderin' if he'd called in sick at all?"_

" _Sick! Sick! A fine specimen like that doesn't suffer from weaknesses like you sad excuses for humanity… HEY! You! This isn't a hotel! Bip, bip, bip!"_

_Max ground her teeth. "Alec. Have you heard from Alec?"_

" _No." Normal looked affronted. "I've been paging him for days." He scowled at Max, pushing his glasses up with one finger. "What's it to you anyway, Miss Too Many Questions? A young man needs a little privacy, time to live a little." He huffed, clearly disgruntled. "Although it would be nice if he saw fit to drop off the signatures… records have to be kept you know!"_

" _Normal!" Max snapped, her patience at its end. "When did you last see Alec."_

" _Not that it's any business of yours... four days ago, when I sent him over to sector eight." He glared at her retreating figure and yelled. "And if you see him, tell him to call Normal! He's not immune from being fired y'know!"_

 _Max ignored him as she strode towards her bike. The twinge of worry in her gut was turning into a full blown clench._ _She headed for sector eight with Original Cindy close behind._

_._

Alec pretended to sleep for most of the journey, finally cracking open an eye when Dean slowed for the turn into Singer's Salvage. He looked around at the piles of rusting vehicles and parts and raised an eyebrow.

"You sure the Pulse hasn't already happened around here?"

Sam snorted, grinning. "I don't think the Pulse would make much difference to Bobby."

"One man's trash is another man's treasure, Sammy!" Dean smirked. "And Bobby sure has a heap of treasure." He brought the Impala to a halt near to the front door of the house.

An aging dog shuffled forwards on stiff legs, the links of his chain dragging behind him. His rumbles went up a pitch when Alec exited the Impala. It sniffed in his direction eagerly. Alec stopped short, nostrils flaring as though he was inhaling the odour of grouchy, old dog. He raised one side of his lip a little, showing a glimpse of white canines, but dropped it again quickly when Dean slapped a hand onto his shoulder and propelled him towards the house.

"C'mon Alec."

The door swung open; Bobby emerged, his shotgun tucked casually under one arm. He squinted, eyes shuttling from Dean to Alec and back again.

"Balls," he said gruffly. "That ain't good."

Dean could feel Alec's muscles tense under his hand at the sight of the shotgun. He moved forwards casually, so that he was partially between Bobby and the younger man. He had absolutely no idea which one of them he was protecting.

.

_It took two hours, Original Cindy's people skills and Max's transgenic nose to find Alec's empty Jam Pony messenger bag in a gloomy alley off the main street._

_Max poked into every corner, sniffing at the brickwork and even feeling the floor around the abandoned bag with her fingertips. There was nothing to find, but she couldn't shake off a sense of distress; it wasn't so much her own distress as a residue left in the physical structures and the air of the alley. Eventually she sat on her heels next to the bag, chewing at her bottom lip._

" _Ain't nothin' here, boo." Original Cindy said, anxiety pulling her lips into a pout. "Your boy ain't here."_

_Max dragged the bag to her, frowning as she turned it over in her hands. "It's Alec; maybe he ditched the packages and blew town."_

_OC sighed, shrugging. "Mebbe he's gone to get his swerve on. W_ _hy are you expectin' the three-legged gender to be considerate for their fellow workers?_ _One thing for sure though, he's all turned around lately..."_

_She held out Max's bike, frowning as she continued. "Alec… he thinks a lot of doggie-dog. It's not like him to leave Joshua hangin'. How about my girl goes to see Logan, see if he's heard anything on the streets?"_

_Max pulled up her hood, cast a last worried look around the alley and followed OC out into the main street._

_._

Bobby ran through routine tests for shapeshifters, demons and anything else he could think of, with nothing awry coming to light. Nothing was ever simple when Winchesters were involved. He slammed down a bottle of whisky with some shot glasses and pulled up a chair.

"So," he said slowly, his eyes roving over the three younger men in a remote triage of emotional and physical well-being. "Mebbe you idjits betta tell me what's been goin' on."

Sam, unsurprisingly, presented a detailed summary of events from the time of their arrival in Seattle, the information issuing from a face that looked as though he hadn't slept properly for far too long. His hazel eyes were bleary as he watched Bobby intently for his reaction. His stance in the chair suggested a residual stiffness from an injury, probably to his shoulder.

Dean was edgy, an unstable energy keeping his knee bouncing nervously underneath the table while his green eyes glittered with an unhealthy combination of anxiety and exhaustion. The purple finger marks around his throat were startling against his pale skin.

Alec… well Alec looked like Dean when he was aged about twenty-one. Hell, he looked a lot like Dean now, just a little softer in the features. He seemed depressed, almost rigid with suppressed emotion, only the so familiar green eyes moving in a face equally as pale as Dean's. Bobby compared them, uneasily fascinated by the identical scattering of freckles. Even the flecks of gold in their eyes were the same. It couldn't be a coincidence.

"You want a picture there?" Alec interrupted his thoughts, a frown on his face. "'Cause I don't come cheap y'know."

Bobby scowled at him. "Don't be a douchewad boy! I get enough smart-assed comments offa this one here." He jerked a thumb in Dean's direction. "You can't expect to turn up at a man's table lookin' like a carbon copy and not expect to get stared at some."

Alec subsided, glowering.

Bobby stared a while longer, rubbing at his whiskers in a thoughtful way. "I've got a contact," he said eventually. "Mebbe he can check out a coupla things for me. Why don't you boys show Alec here where everythin' is at, get yourselves settled in?"

He waited until the room was empty and then carefully carried the shot glasses to his desk. Minutes later he was faxing a copy of the fingerprints taken from the glass to his contact. He spoke gruffly into the 'phone.

"Yeah, Frank, I'm callin' in a favor! Yeah… yeah just get 'em to me as quick as y'can. And those other points… find out anythin' y'can. What! You are one paranoid bastard, y'know that? Just make it quick Frank, okay?"

.

Alec's head hurt. He'd run through every possible explanation and then discarded it so many times that his brain felt bruised. He'd been here, wherever _here_ was, for days now. He was no closer to finding an answer than when he'd first collapsed by the Impala.

The Winchesters wanted to help; he was sure of that. But since he'd first met them he'd become increasingly aware of an undercurrent of distress and desperation that had nothing to do with his sudden appearance. He was an added complication in their already crazy lives. You didn't let your unit down, not ever. That had been drilled into him. Sometimes sticking around and being a burden _was_ letting your unit down. Everything would be better if he took off, took responsibility for his own problems.

He accepted a glass of milk, reclaimed his own clothes and retreated to the privacy of the shower. He stood there for a while, leaning his forehead against the smooth tiles and letting the luxury of hot water sluice down over his skin. It wouldn't be the first time he'd walked away from the only people he knew, but it didn't make it any easier. He'd survived then; he would find a way to survive now. Soap suds swirled around his feet on their way to the drain plug, releasing an aroma of artificial fruit smells, reminding him of Sam's girly shampoo and his first morning of lucidity in the motel. He slammed his hands against the tiles, pushing his forehead hard into their cool surface. He made up his mind. It was time to cut loose.

He dressed quickly, slipped his knife into his boot and dropped silently from the upstairs window into the yard. Two minutes later he'd found a vehicle that looked in reasonable condition and pushed it through the gate. Another couple of minutes and it was hotwired and heading north, Alec swallowing hard against a lump that kept rising up his throat and rubbing intermittently at the unexplained ache in his chest.


	12. Chapter 12

The pieces of paper quivered in Bobby's grip as he walked into the kitchen. Dean put down the coffee pot with a dull thunk, reading all sorts of things into the older man's frown and finding none of them good.

"What's up?"

Bobby slapped one sheet down onto the table top, a few breadcrumbs bouncing with the force of the blow.

"You boys know how to get yourselves right in the middle of anythin' crappy. Ain't monsters enough for ya?" He pointed at the paper with a gnarled finger. "Looks like you an' Alec got identical fingerprints."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "You lifted our fingerprints! That's sneaky even for you, old man!"

"Don't worry y'head about it." Bobby jabbed at the paper. "This ain't possible 'less he's some kinda alternative shapeshifter that don't react to silver. Or... if his story _ain't_ a steamin' pile of bullcrap... then I guess that could make him your clone, seein' as you're older."

Dean looked distinctly uncomfortable. Bobby spread the other pieces of paper on the table; they were copies of clippings from newspapers and research documents. He held up his hand as Dean opened his mouth to speak.

"Ain't so crazy as it sounds... Look here, this article is about Dolly, a cloned sheep all the way back in 1996... And here's information on Polly an' Molly, _transgenic_ sheep. And they ain't the only cases. These kinda things don't happen overnight and y'can guarantee only some of what's goin' on ever gets released to the public domain. Let's just suppose for a minute that ten, mebbe even fifteen years afore Dolly, someone started mixin' up humans in a petri dish?"

Dean swallowed. "I hear you Bobby. But nothin' else fits. Alec says it should be 2020 now… and nothin' he remembers from 2006 is here in 2006."

He kneaded his forehead with long fingers, dragged them back through his hair. There was real regret in his tone. "I like the kid, y'know? But…" His voice tailed off.

Bobby sent a sharp glance in his direction. "Y' think he might be nuts?"

"No! Well… hell, I dunno. We see crazy every day, maybe this is just, y'know, a different kind of crazy?"

"And he don't seem a little _different_ t'ya? 'Cause from what Sam was sayin', Alec moves kinda fast for a reg'lar human being?"

Dean's expression betrayed his conflicting emotions. Looking purely at Alec's story, it seemed certain that he was crazy. But there were the other things to take into consideration. Alec's impossible speed for one thing, something he'd witnessed first-hand in the cemetery and again when they'd been fighting by the Impala. Then there was the incredible strength; neither he nor Sam were weaklings but it had taken all their power to keep Alec in the bathtub. He'd felt it again when they'd been fighting and just for a moment Alec stopped playing and unleashed his full strength, pinning Dean to the floor… but then Alec had capitulated and lay back to take his punishment for not making the killing blow. Even now that angered Dean. That flinch, the way Alec had closed his eyes. Someone had hurt him really bad in the past; even worse than that, they'd trained him to think it was okay to be hurt. If Alec _was_ crazy, maybe he had his reasons.

Bobby stacked the papers, scowling and chewing at a corner of his moustache.

"I got somethin' in an old file," he muttered suddenly. "Never thought I'd need it… I'm gonna have to go dig it out."

Dean stared at him. "You don't think this is all for real?"

"I didn't, not 'til them fingerprint results came in. Now I'm wonderin' about somethin' happened a long time ago. Somethin' your Daddy wrote down and asked me to keep."

Now that wasn't right, Bobby thought. The boys, especially Dean, were all torn up about John dying, but that blanch when he mentioned their father, the guilt that flooded Dean's face, there was something going on there that was more than just grief. He made a mental note to grill Sam about it once this new crazy was under control.

He cleared his throat. "Tell ya what. You get ahold of Sam and Alec and I'll go get my file. Might as well do this all together."

Dean looked at him out of a face that was suddenly too tight. "Yeah, okay."

.

_Max slouched against the frame of the glass partition, crossing her arms. She tilted her head to lean on the wood as she watched Logan tapping at his keyboard, the light of the monitors reflecting off the lens of his glasses and highlighting his profile._

_"I ran a search of all the police bulletins for the last five days. If Alec was picked up by the law there'd be something on file."_

_"Anything turn up?"_

_Logan approached her slowly, his forehead creased in thought. She backed away slightly, ever mindful of the deadly virus planted in her by Manticore._

" _No. Nothing. No arrests in that area, no trouble."_

_"What about the hospitals?"_

_"Nothing that sounded like Alec."_

_Logan pulled off his glasses, polishing them with the corner of his shirt._

_She snorted. "Half of me thinks he just took off."_

_"Doesn't seem logical. Why would he leave the Jam Pony things in an alley?"_

_"I guess not." Max frowned, more worried than she was letting on. "You'll let me know if you hear anythin', right?"_

_Logan replaced his glasses and stared at her._

_"You're thinking White has him again?"_

_"No…" She shrugged. "Maybe."_

_"I'll ask around and I'll call Matt Sung... maybe he can dig up somethin' I can't. We're gonna find him, Max, if he wants to be found."_

.

The sound of Sam's boots thundering across the upper floor echoed down into the kitchen.

"You alright there, Sammy?" Dean stuck his head up the staircase.

"He's gone!" Sam appeared at the top of the stairs. "His clothes are missing; looks like he went out the back upstairs window."

"You're freakin' kiddin' me!"

Dean rushed out of the door and to the back of the house. There was no sign of Alec, although the boot-shaped imprints directly beneath the upstairs window made it fairly obvious he'd jumped out.

"Well, that's normal." Dean looked uneasily up at the height of the window before heading back to the front of the house. To his relief the Impala was still parked in the yard. Bobby appeared in the front door.

"Bobby," he hollered. "You got any cars missing?" He figured Alec had a head start of about twenty minutes; he needed to get on the road as soon as possible if he was going to catch up with him. For a brief moment it occurred to Dean that he could just cut Alec loose and it would be one less thing to deal with, but the thought was squashed almost as soon as it formed.

A quick check of the yard revealed that an old blue Dodge had disappeared.

"Idjit ain't gonna get far. That one's got herself a cracked sump; he's gonna seize the engine."

Dean was already in the Impala. "Stay here, Sammy. When I catch up, I'll call and you can come out with Bobby's tow truck."

Sam was puzzled. "How do you know where he's gone?"

"Well hell Sammy, he's meant to be my goddamn clone." Dean put his foot on the gas and peeled out of the yard, leaving Sam with a confused expression on his face.

"Clone?" he said, turning to Bobby.

.

_Original Cindy nodded her thanks to the barman as she slid the jug of beer off the bar. She carried it over to the table and put it between herself and Max._

_"No luck, boo?"_

_Max shook her head, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear._

_"No. Logan's got nothin'."_

_"My girl is gettin' all mopey." OC sloshed beer into Max's glass. The sympathy shining in her big brown eyes betrayed her own concern for the absent, smart-mouthed X5. "It ain't like you to be so shook up over Alec. You really think somethin' bad happened to your boy, huh?"_

_For once Max didn't bother to correct her about Alec being 'her boy'. Alec was a transgenic too; he was family. She took a swig of her beer and slid off the stool._

_"I'm gonna head out, see if there's any word on the streets." She declined to mention which streets she intended to visit._

_"Sure sugar. You be careful y'hear?" Original Cindy twirled her glass around in its little puddle of beer, frowning, as the sound of Max's departing motorcycle echoed through the open door._

.

Somewhere between Sioux Falls and Mitchell the Dodge began to overheat. Alec swore, slamming his hand against the wheel and snarling to himself that it was typical he hadn't been trained in vehicle maintenance by Manticore, apart from the general 'fill it with gas and keep the fluids topped up' kind of maintenance. His specialism had been a little more deadly.

He pushed on very slowly to the next rest stop, only just making it as far as the parking area. As he rolled down the access road there was a terminal banging noise from the engine. An acrid smell of burning and a trickle of dark smoke filtered through the dashboard.

Alec braked the car to a halt, ending up parked untidily across several parking spaces. At least the rest stop was quiet, with just a couple of RVs and one or two cars at the far side. He raised the hood, releasing a small cloud of smoke and a strong smell of burnt oil.

He was still staring at the engine, wondering what to do next, when the growl of the Impala broke into his thoughts. There was a shriek of tires as Dean slammed on the brakes, fishtailing briefly before aiming down the access road. He pulled up in front of Alec and stepped out of the car. He looked really pissed.

Alec shifted his shoulders slightly, curling his hands loosely, ready, as a frisson of nerves swept over his skin.

"What the hell, dude!" Dean _sounded_ pissed too. "Why'd you run off like that?" He marched right up to Alec, stopping within arm's length, looking for all the world as though he wanted to throw him bodily into the Impala. "What are you doin' here?"

Alec swallowed. "I was about to ask you the same thing." He kept his voice calm; he really didn't want to fight with Dean. He blinked, looking contrite. "'M sorry, about taking the car. I think maybe I broke it?"

It suddenly occurred to him that Dean was angry about the car. He figured that Dean probably wouldn't have followed him if he hadn't been stupid enough to steal a vehicle. For some reason that thought hurt. So he smirked, playing it cool, tipping his chin slightly in the direction of the Dodge.

"Guess that's why you came after me, huh? I shoulda known better than to steal from your pal. I'd offer to pay him back but…" He shrugged, smirked again, slapping his jacket pocket. "Guess I lost my wallet. Probably fell out in some time warp, happens to me all the time y'know."

Dean glowered at him. He pulled out his cell and snapped a few directions into it before ramming it back into his pocket.

"I didn't drive out here to get the goddamn car! Where the hell did you think you were goin'?"

So why had Dean come rushing after him then, if it wasn't for the car? Alec scowled right back. He wasn't some useless Ordinary or a kid that needed to be protected. He hadn't needed protection when he _was_ a kid.

"Sometimes a guy just has more fun on his own. What part of me being a genetically empowered super soldier don't you get? I can look after myself!"

An SUV drove past slowly, eyes goggling out of the windows at the minor drama of the broken-down vehicle and angry looking men.

Dean didn't break eye contact. "You were just gonna ditch us then, huh?" He stepped closer, right in Alec's face, close enough that Alec could see the muscle ticking in his jaw. It was unnerving staring into a mirror image of his own eyes.

Alec opened his mouth to do one of the things he did best, mouth off, but in doing so inadvertently inhaled a lungful of Dean's scent. Something instinct bred into his DNA identified the other man as kin. The balloon of his anger and sarcasm deflated immediately.

Dean rushed on, furious. "Sure you can look after yourself! That's why you're sat at the side of the freakin' road with a busted vehicle and no goddamn money!"

He wound his fingers into the front of Alec's jacket, giving him a little shake. "Bobby's found something, you asshat! You need to hear him out. Then if you want to leave, you do that… with a decent car and some dollars in your pocket!"

He let go of Alec's jacket and stared at him, the anger bleeding away and being replaced by hurt. "Dude, you said we were your unit. My Dad…" He swallowed, looking a little sick and continued in a harsh tone. "He said in the Marines that's kinda like family!"

So that was why he was so angry. Alec bit his lip, trying to find the words to explain.

"I dunno what's going on… I don't want to put you in danger. The people who are after me, they're bad news. When the Manticore facility was found out, they locked everyone in and tried to barbecue 'em, even the little kids!" He dragged in a shaky breath. "You don't need to get mixed up in this crap. I'm not important; I'm expendable."

Dean gestured at his own face, jabbed a finger at Alec. "You may have noticed we look kinda similar? This doesn't affect just you dude. And we're _always_ in danger." He took a deep breath, looking even more aggravated. "What d'you mean you're expendable!"

Alec watched him, eyes wide.

"You can't just go runnin' off kiddo, you need some back up. You're gonna get yourself killed…" Something raw flashed across Dean's face. He continued in a furious growl. "I'm not lettin' anybody else die on my watch!"

Startled at the unexpected vehemence of the last comment, Alec took a half step backwards, thrusting a hand behind himself for balance as the back of his knees collided with the front of the Dodge. His hand made contact with the smoking hot engine with an audible hiss; he shot upright, pulling it free as pain exploded in his palm and lanced up the nerves of his arm.

Sonofabitch!"

Dean grabbed him by the wrist, his fingers cool against the heat flooding up from Alec's palm. He towed Alec to the Impala's trunk and pulled out a bottle of water; pouring the cold liquid over the burn.

"Bang up job of lookin' after yourself there."

"It's okay." Alec was embarrassed. "It'll heal in a few hours." He smiled cautiously, hoping they were done with fighting. "Superior genes."

Dean huffed. "Of course they're superior; Bobby figures you're my clone." He raised an eyebrow. "Coupla hours, huh? Awesome."

The trunk slammed shut with a decisive bang. Dean's eyes were glinting, crinkling up at the corners. "You _jumped_ out the upstairs window?"

Alec grinned. "Yeah, cat DNA."

"Awesome."

Alec leaned against the Impala, flexing his palm. It was throbbing but the blistered skin would soon subside, it was only a minor injury but like all burns it was surprisingly painful at first. X5s were equipped to deal with pain and Alec clamped down on it fast, rubbing lightly at the tingling feeling in the skin of his arm.

"Alec? You okay?" Dean was watching him with concern.

"I'm fine." Alec shoved his hand into his pocket, squinting against the overly bright winter sunlight. "Hungry I guess?"

"We'll wait and help Sam hook up the Dodge, then get on back to Bobby's. He makes the best chilli this side of Mexico."

Alec hoped he was going to be offered some chilli; Bobby hadn't seem to like him even _before_ he stole one of his cars. Although to be truthful, he wasn't really hungry. What he needed was a big carton of milk. He considered asking Dean to buy him some, but dismissed the thought. Maybe Bobby would have some spare.


	13. Chapter 13

_A.N. It's a long chapter, time to get the 'technical' part of the plot done..._

_._

Alec did get some chilli. His experience of chilli was fairly limited, but he would've cast a vote that it _was_ the best chilli this side of Mexico. He found he was kind of hungry after all; he pushed the spoon around the plate, chasing down the last few grains of rice and spicy sauce.

"That was some good chilli, Bobby. Thanks." Dean shoved his plate away and rubbed his stomach in appreciation. "Awesome, huh, Alec?"

"Yeah." Alec put his spoon down, still feeling really guilty about the Dodge. He kept his chin down, looking up at Bobby from under his lashes. "Really good, thanks."

Bobby sighed; it was young Dean all over again. All guilt and long lashes and big worried eyes. Another minute or two and he'd be covering it up with jokes and smirks. He stacked the dishes and headed for the sink, patting Alec on the shoulder on the way past. "Don't worry y'self about the car," he said gruffly. "Y'can help me fix it. If you're gonna go bustin' em up like that, y'idjit, y'might as well learn how to fix 'em up after."

Alec flushed a little, looking surprised; he'd been expecting punishment, not a lesson in vehicle maintenance. He was wondering what to do in this unusually 'civilised' environment where people sat down together to eat a meal cooked for everyone. None of his missions had prepared him for day to day domestic life. The closest he'd come to eating like this was at Joshua's. He eyed the stack of dishes.

"Er… you want me to clean up?" It was the right thing to say. Bobby's face altered fractionally, easy to spot if you'd been trained to be especially empathetic; it may even have been the beginnings of a smile.

"Y'can wipe up later. First, there's some things we need to figure out." He put down the coffee pot, sliding a mug across to each of them.

Alec fidgeted, flicking his gaze to the refrigerator. It didn't look as though any milk carton was coming out.

"Hey, Bobby. You got milk." Sam asked.

Bobby scowled at him. "Get it y'self, princess. Y'know where it's at."

Sam pulled a large carton from the fridge, splashing some into his coffee. He hovered over Alec's mug.

"You wanting milk or coffee there, Alec?" He smiled easily at Bobby. "Alec here is a fiend for milk."

"Oh yeah, I'll have milk." The relief was evident in Alec's tone. He met Sam's gaze, surprised when Sam grinned in a conspiratorial manner and dropped him a wink. He grinned back, swigging the milk and flexing a cramp out of one of his toes.

Sam and Alec had already read the newspaper articles about the cloned and transgenic sheep. Now Bobby pulled out a thin cardboard file. Inside were some loose pages; they looked suspiciously as though they'd been torn out of John Winchester's journal. He held them almost reverently, letting his eyes drift to each of the younger men in turn.

"Now," he said slowly. "This is somethin' I never thought would see the light of day again. But Alec here, he's mebbe made a few things fall into place."

Dean cleared his throat. "They're from Dad's journal?"

"Yeah. They are. He tore 'em out. Didn't want to leave somethin' in the journal he wasn't too sure about. But he figured… hell _we_ figured, back in the days before I threatened to fill his ass full of buckshot, that I betta keep 'em safe, just in case."

Bobby settled back in his chair. He had everyone's full attention.

"When you boys were just little kids… Sam was 'bout three I guess… your Daddy stopped over for a coupla weeks. Dean here was just over the chicken pox and Sam was comin' down with it, all covered in spots like a raison puddin'."

Dean snorted, waggling an eyebrow at his brother.

"Well Dean started complainin' about his jaw hurtin'. Few days later it was all swole up. Dentist here in town took a look and said it was a tooth comin' in the wrong way. It had to be pulled fast or pretty boy here wouldn't have that smile he likes to flash around."

Sam chuckled.

Dean nodded. "I remember that! It hurt like hell. I was mebbe, seven?"

"Yeah 'bout that I reckon." Bobby took a slurp of coffee and continued, explaining how the local dentist hadn't had the equipment to do the small operation on such a young child. He'd put John in touch with a specialist, operating out of a small clinic on the outskirts of Gillette. John had set up an appointment and lit out like a cat with its tail on fire, leaving Sam in Bobby's care. By the time they arrived in Gillette, John wasn't feeling too well, but he kept it to himself in the time honored Winchester way. The little operation went well but that's when things had started to go sideways. Dean reacted badly to the anaesthetic; nothing too serious, but enough to warrant him being kept in the clinic overnight. John had stayed with him, feeling increasingly ill as the hours passed. As soon as Dean was discharged the next morning they'd headed for Sioux Falls, Dean still groggy as hell, but they'd only travelled a few miles when John had to pull over to throw up.

"It was afore cell 'phones were common, y'understand? John, realisin' he was about to pass out, grabs ahold of Dean and bangs on the door of a little industrial unit. And that's the last thing he remembers 'til he wakes up on a bunk in some sorta laboratory. Dean's lyin' on a table next to him, looks like he's asleep. There's an argument goin' on between some man in a white lab coat and another guy who's yellin' that he shouldn't have took samples from the little boy. Well John, he realises they're talking about Dean and he jumps up like an idjit and promptly passes out again.

Next thing he knows this other guy is wheelin' him out of the building in a wheelchair; Dean's on his lap. The guy rushes 'em to where the Impala should be, only it ain't. He kind of pitches John outta the chair, tells him to hold on tight to Dean and says he's gotta go back to where he come from. John recalls there was an almighty big bang and then they're lyin' on the floor next to the Impala; the man is gone and the building is all empty and derelict.

Well John hightails it back here to Sioux Falls with Dean. He's kinda sick for a day or two and then he heads back up there like there's a demon on his ass, leaving you boys with me. When he gets back down here, he tears out these pages and tells me to keep 'em safe 'cause somethin' funny happened in Gillette and he ain't sure what. He pulls out a few days later with you boys and we never spoke of it again."

"Samples?" asked Dean, looking horrified. "What kinda samples?"

"Your Daddy never knew. He saw a phial of blood and some glass dishes on a tray and that was it."

"DNA samples," breathed Alec.

"Could be." Sam leaned forwards, intent. "I can see where you're coming from, Bobby. It's pretty freaky and it's one time Dean could've had some DNA taken, but let's face it, he's left blood and bits of DNA in just about every hospital across the USA."

"Hey!" Dean protested.

"The sickness sounds like the sickness I had, when you picked me up in Seattle?" Alec was frowning in concentration. "You said the building was derelict, when John found himself back by the Impala? Just like Seattle was in a hell of a different state of repair when I woke up in that alley."

The Winchesters were nodding.

Bobby sighed. "John, he was all tore up over Mary and on a mission to track down her killer and nothin' was gonna distract him from that. John convinced himself he'd had a fever dream, but deep down I think he knew it was more'n that. When he wrote it up in these pages, he reckoned if it hadn't been a hallucination then he was either plain crazy or he'd travelled through time somehow. Either way, he couldn't find diddly squat when he went back up to Gillette, so he got on with tracking Mary's killer and left the only evidence he had, these here notes, with me."

Alec looked directly at Bobby, again reading his expression accurately. "There's more to it."

Bobby's expression was one of approval. "Keep goin'," he said.

Sam chipped in. "Alec was in Seattle in 2020. He felt sick, passed out in an alleyway and when he woke up he's here in 2006. But Seattle had changed and things that should be here in 2006 aren't here." He squinted, continuing slowly. "It's like he didn't just travel through time, but fell through into a different layer of reality. But supposing that's even possible, why?"

"Somethin' pulled 'em through," said Dean suddenly. "First Dad got pulled through in Gillette and came back. Then Alec got pulled through in Seattle… only he's still here."

"It was you," said Alec with surety. "I was ahead, in 2020, in a different layer of reality. You were here in this one. We were both in the same location in Seattle… different layer, same location. Somehow we got too close and I was sucked through. So that means… in Gillette…" He stared at Bobby. "I'm right aren't I?" Alec turned to the Winchesters. "The guy who helped your Dad, in Gillette… he looked just like your Dad."

"What!" Dean stood up. "Is that true, Bobby?"

"Yeah. It was John Winchester helped you and your Daddy escape. An older John Winchester."

"Bobby, this is a huge leap, even for us to believe." Sam sounded uncertain.

"It's not," said Alec. "There's been theories around time travel and alternate universes for decades. If we think about time travel first… many theories suggest it may be possible, under certain conditions, for something to slip from one time to another. Then dimensions or alternative universes… just one example; the many-worlds interpretation is an interpretation of quantum mechanics that implies that all possible alternate histories and futures are real, each representing an actual universe. In other words, there is a huge, perhaps infinite, number of universes, and everything that could possibly have happened in our past, but did not, has occurred in the past of some other universe or universes." He became aware of the glazed expressions of the other occupants in the room. "It's kinda a huge subject."

"Y'don't say," said Bobby dryly.

"Are you tellin' me," asked Dean. "That you were in some freakin' alternate universe in 2020 and we, I dunno, walked over the same ground or somethin' in Seattle and somehow that caused you to get sucked through into this universe in 2006!"

"Yeah. I think so. And your Dad, he was sucked through in Gillette because he was in the same location as the alternative John Winchester. You got dragged through with him. While you were both there some pre-runner of Manticore stole your DNA and a few years later, hey presto, here's me, X5-494."

"How come being dragged to another universe doesn't happen all the time then?" Sam was trying hard to hide the incredulity in his tone, but it was seeping through anyway.

Bobby snorted. "Who's to say it don't? Would ya pop into work the next day and say hey, I took a little roadtrip to 2020 yesterday? 'Course ya don't, not 'less ya want a one way ticket to the crazy farm. Makes sense it might happen. All these monsters we hunt… there's no sign of 'em for years and then this ancient being appears an' causes all hell to break loose. So what have they been doin' all them other years? Sittin' on their asses and readin' a book? Or d'ya think they might've been causing havoc someplace else, someplace not in this universe or time?"

Sam shrugged. "It's possible, it's all possible, but it's all just guesswork."

"Well it was," added Dean. "Until Alec showed up. He's proof it happens."

Sam's academic mind was picking over the case. "Why didn't the DNA thief just take some DNA from the son of the other John Winchester?"

"Maybe he did." Alec sighed. "Or maybe there isn't a Dean in my universe. Your Dad wasn't working for some lab in this one so somewhere along the way their paths diverged."

Sam swallowed. The thought of a universe without a Dean in it was unnerving.

"So what we gotta do," Bobby noted. "Is figure out a way to get Alec back to where he belongs."

There was a stunned silence. Alec rubbed absentmindedly at a stiff feeling in his calf muscle as Sam frowned at the table.

"My head hurts." Dean sounded plaintive. "Don't look at me like that, old man! I've just been told my clone time-travelled from a different universe 'cos I trod on the wrong piece of sidewalk. It's friggin' crazy. I need a whiskey."

"Yeah," agreed Bobby, levering himself to his feet. "I think we could all do with a coupla shots." He offered the bottle around.

Alec waved him off, wishing he could get some more milk. His thigh was twitching underneath the table. He sat and bounced his knee, disguising the tremble in his thigh muscle that was visible even through the thick material of his jeans.

Sam stood up and walked slowly over to the window. He jammed his hands in his pockets. "You were there in Gillette with Dad. Do you remember any of this, Dean?"

"Not much dude. I was kinda out of it after the op." Dean frowned, his eyes unfocussed. "I remember feeling sick and dizzy and Dad carrying me out to the Impala from the clinic… he pulled over to hurl… then there's a coupla vague memories…" He looked surprised. "Dad does look sorta old in some of 'em."

"Typical Dad." Sam snorted, bitter.

"What d'you mean by that, Sammy?" Dean's eyes snapped into focus. He'd always played peacemaker between John and his youngest, but John was gone now and Bobby was surprised at the bite of anger in the words.

"Trying to drive back to Bobby's when you were still sick and getting over the anaesthetic. He never put you first." It was a familiar complaint, Sam's dissatisfaction with his father's methods of parenting.

Dean glowered at him. "Lay off, Sam!"

To Bobby's astonishment, Sam flushed, backing down immediately, guilt tugging at his mouth. "I'm sorry! I just... I didn't think!"

"Well start thinking! I don't want to hear that crap." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, looking pained. "We've got enough to worry about."

Alec flinched. He wasn't sure what was behind the first part of the exchange, but he'd picked up the last sentence loud and clear. Of course he was an additional worry to them; they might want to help but even so they'd surely be keen to get rid of him as soon as possible. Send him home. He rose quickly, turning away abruptly when one eyelid began to twitch slightly.

"Lot to take on board," he said smoothly. "I'm gonna get some air." He ambled out of the door, forcing himself not to limp as his left thigh began to cramp. He flicked a quick grin in their direction and stepped away into the yard. Honestly, he wasn't that surprised by the conversation. He'd already known he was in a different time and most likely a different universe. What he needed to get his head around was the fact that his first instinct was that he wanted to stay.

.

_After leaving Original Cindy at Crash, Max spent a couple of hours scaring the hell out of Alec's dodgy contacts around Seattle. None of them had laid eyes on him for days. One or two thought they could take money they were owed from Max. She re-educated them; they wouldn't be making the same mistake again._

_She slipped silently into Terminal City and started tracking down a few of the Manticore escapees. It was the same story, no sign of Alec anywhere._

.

The crisp air in the junkyard seemed to help. Alec let the cold soak through his clothes and settle like an icy shroud over his super-heated skin. After a while the cramp in his thigh eased off and he started to walk, picking his way carefully among the piles of scrap.

He wasn't sure he wanted to go back to 'his' Seattle. He missed Joshua. The thought of never seeing Original Cindy, Sketchy, even Normal was oddly painful. And Max… but Max didn't really like him. Sure, she'd saved his life and since the Berrisford thing she'd been a little nicer, less ready to slap him upside the head, but she didn't really think of him as a friend; she was too tied up with the whole Logan and virus situation. He brushed it all aside. At this moment in time they'd no idea how to get him home anyway. He might never have to make a choice.

Alec paused outside a lit window. The Winchesters and Bobby had moved into the room which housed Bobby's desk and endless piles of books. The warm, yellow glow of the lamp shone through the dirty glass, making it seem almost cosy. He shivered, pulling his jacket around him, feeling cut off, as he had ever since he'd left Manticore behind. If he did get to make a choice, he reflected, the Winchesters might not want him to stay anyway, especially if they found out he was damaged goods. He wasn't even sure why he wanted to stay.

A shudder that was more than a reaction to the cold rippled up his back. He had more immediate things to worry about. He'd never personally experienced a seizure, that awful glitch in the superior X5 series. Up until the demise of the Manticore facility they'd all been given supplements as part of their daily rations. Despite this, some X5s had succumbed anyway; Alec's gut rolled with terror at the memory of their bone cracking agony. Failure to respond immediately to Manticore's emergency treatment had inevitably resulted in the removal of the afflicted X5. None of them returned.

Alec wrapped his arms tight around his middle, fighting to control another shudder. Not now, he thought, please, not now.

When the shudder eased he slipped silently into the house and helped himself to the remaining milk in the refrigerator. He needed Tryptophan; he knew Max had a stash but that was as far out of his reach as it was possible to be. Was it even available here? If he could just hold off the seizure until tomorrow, maybe he could get some, or drink the state dry of milk… his jaw clenched involuntarily as he swallowed the last mouthful from the carton, causing some milk to spill through his lips and onto his shirt. He dropped the empty carton back into the fridge and dabbed at himself with a wet cloth.

It was getting late. Resting might help. He slipped unnoticed up the stairs and dropped onto one of the beds in the spare room. Even fully clothed and still wearing his boots, he was shaking with cold. He pulled the blanket over himself and tried to relax.

.

_It was late, very late, when Max dropped by at Logan's apartment. Tired, red-rimmed eyes met hers and a voice hoarse with exhaustion confirmed there were no leads. It didn't seem as though Eyes Only had time to sleep either, although without the benefit of shark DNA it was clearly affecting him more than her._

_By the time she returned home, not long before dawn, Max had to accept that Alec was either far away from Seattle or, more likely, in the clutches of Ames White._

.

Alec was up at first light. He'd barely slept, spending most of the night shivering beneath his blanket and trying not to let the sound of his rattling teeth travel across the room to the brothers. He felt worse, much worse. A pounding headache had settled in at the back of his skull and his vision was patchy at the edges. Little cramps came and went without warning in his legs and feet.

He rose quietly, some instinct telling him to get away and hide in a dark corner somewhere. He briefly considered taking the blanket but regretfully left it in a crumpled heap on the bed.

It was freezing outside but his skin was beginning to burn again; he wondered vaguely whether his own internal temperature or the outside temperature would kill him first. He headed towards the shadows at the back of the yard away from the too bright, too loud dawn.

The first real cramp hit without warning, clawing at his leg and twisting the muscles in his buttocks and up the length of his back. The pain was incredible. He lost his breath, a small shocked sound ripping through his lips. Everything seemed to stop; he was unable to move or breathe or even blink. As suddenly as it started, it was gone. Alec dropped to his knees, his distress made visible in the frigid air by the white plumes of his harsh gasps. Shit, he thought, shitshitshitshit. He pushed himself back onto his feet, leaning his shaking hands on his knees.

"Alec?" Dean's voice, sharp with concern, behind him in the yard. "Dude, are you okay?"

Alec forced himself upright, trying so hard not to show that anything was wrong. It was no good. The next cramp ripped shockingly across his stomach. He bent over again involuntarily, his fingers digging into the rigid muscles of his abdomen. "Uhh…"

"Fuck! Alec!" Dean's hands were on his shoulders as he straightened up painfully, worried green eyes staring into his own.

Alec tried to say something but the next cramp rocketed up his spine. His back arched, raising him up on his toes and then snapping him forwards. He fell into Dean's shoulder and collapsed, Dean trying to support him as he dropped. Icy metal sliced into the skin of his cheek.

He could hear Dean shouting for help even as a reassuring hand rubbed along his arm. Alec clenched his teeth, sure they would shatter. As he began to black out, he could hear himself whining and hated himself for it.

 


	14. Chapter 14

As soon as Alec left the bedroom, Dean's feet hit the floor. It was almost a relief that the night was officially over after hours of listening to the transgenic's restless twitching. Not that he'd have slept much anyway.  Dad in hell, Alec in the wrong universe, Sam having visions and maybe about to go dark-side... Dean's head felt as though it was about to explode; one more thing and he would surely give himself an aneurism.

"Is Alec okay?"  Sam rolled to face him, bed-hair and tired eyes suggesting he hadn't had much sleep either.

Dean wondered why he was supposed to know if Alec was okay. Maybe it was just because he was Sam's big brother and therefore the supposed expert on that sort of thing. Sam, despite being a highly intelligent and self-sufficient man in his own right, occasionally still automatically deferred to Dean over little things.  Apparently this was one of those times.

"I dunno," he said, not feeling particularly intelligent himself at that moment in time. At least the question had been 'is Alec okay' rather than 'are you okay', because this morning maybe, just maybe, he'd have choked on the expected 'I'm fine' and come out with something stupid like 'no, I'm not fucking okay', and then everything would have been fubar.

Dean settled for a simple statement. "I'll go check on him." He finished tightening his laces and left the room rapidly, leaving behind the sound of Sam yawning and muttering something about putting on some coffee.

The cold pressed against him as soon as he stepped outside, biting into his exposed flesh and striking through his clothing. He cursed under his breath, expressing his opinion about clones who liked to wander around outside in sub-zero temperatures at dawn and younger brothers who were still in bed.

He headed after Alec, following the boot prints in the thick fur of frost. He'd only taken a few steps when he heard a sound that was half yelp, half gasp. The shock and pain in the cry had Dean running immediately. He rounded the corner of the house to find Alec trying to straighten up.

"Alec?  Dude, are you okay?"

The younger man's features were grey with pain, but despite that his expression mirrored Dean’s own when he was trying against all odds for the classic 'I'm fine.'  The words were cut off before they ever broke from his lips; Alec's expression crumpled as he jack-knifed forwards, clutching at his abdomen.

Dean caught his shoulders as he came upright again, registering a look of near terror in the youthful face before another spasm tore Alec out of his grasp. Alec arched back, snapped forwards into Dean and collapsed, smacking his face into a metal car panel on the way down, despite Dean's desperate attempt to stop his fall.

"Sammy! Sam!" roared Dean. "Bobby, get out here!"

He dropped to his knees, trying to protect Alec's head from further damage as the transgenic seized, arching up off the floor in a violent spasm of locking, twisting muscles.  A whimper forced its way through his bared teeth.

"Crap," whispered Dean; from the expression on Alec’s face the pain was excruciating. He murmured words of reassurance, not sure his voice was even heard.

Alec tried to say something; his eyes fixing on Dean’s for a second before they rolled upwards as he passed out. A half-dressed Sam skidded to his knees beside them, Bobby right behind, his boots unlaced and a wild look on his face. In a distracted way Dean noted he was wearing pyjamas under his hunting jacket.

"Seizure."  Dean said, his voice gruff in the icy air.  "Let's get him inside while he's out of it."

They laid Alec down on the old couch. Bobby swept aside a pile of books and escaped stuffing to make room for the long legs that were shifting restlessly as Alec began to stir.

"Hey?"  Sam's voice was gentle. He wiped away the blood dripping down Alec’s cheek.  The metal panel had made a nasty looking gash but it didn’t seem to be too deep; with the transgenic’s accelerated healing capabilities it probably wouldn’t need stitching.

Alec's eyes opened slowly; he looked around, an embarrassed flush painting his pale cheeks when he realised they were all watching him.

"Well, that was fun," he said in a ragged whisper. His bottom lip trembled, causing his attempt to smirk to fail miserably.

"Alec."  Dean's voice pulled the glassy gaze in his direction.  "You had some sorta seizure.  You ever had one before dude?"

"No. Not me. X5s..." He shuddered, swallowed, trying to talk through chattering teeth. "X5s h... have a serotonin imbalance. We... we Uh.." Another spasm pulled him sideways; he ground his cheek into the couch.

Bobby laid a hand on his shoulder. "Try an' relax when they hit kiddo; it'll help."  He stooped down, waiting until the cramps eased.  "That's it, nice an’ easy does it." He put a hand on Alec's cheek, tapping it gently to get his attention. "Do y’take any meds?"

"No." Alec coughed, trying to clear the hoarseness from his voice. "Manticore put sup... supplements, with our food."

Sam leaned in. "And since Manticore? Do you take anything now?"

"No. Been okay, just... milk. Milk helps. Max used to take Tryptophan, but they fixed her." Alec's head dropped back; he looked exhausted.

"Tryptophan." Sam was already flipping open his laptop. He continued in an undertone. “Why do I know something about that?”

"No milk."  Dean's voice came from the doorway. He shook the empty carton to emphasise his point.

Bobby checked his watch.  "Gas station sells it but they ain’t open yet. Hammer on the door and tell ‘em Bobby Singer sent ya. They’ll let y’have some."  Dean's boots thundered out of the house; the Impala left a stripe of rubber behind as she hit the blacktop outside Bobby's gate.

"Bobby," Sam hissed. He pointed at the screen of the laptop.  "Tryptophan might be difficult. Looks like the FDA lifted its import ban in 2005, but there's no guarantee that supplies available to consumers aren't contaminated."

Bobby scratched his head, frowning. "Leave it with me, I've got a contact. Clone boy here’s got enough problems without us buyin' somethin' that'll poison him too."

Alec had begun to move around uneasily. Bobby moved to sit next to him, feeling an unwanted knot in his stomach at the scared look that Alec was unable to keep hidden.  The youngster was so much like Dean it was uncanny and seeing one of the boys hurt always made him feel physically sick.  “You okay there, kiddo?”

"It's comin' b...back." Alec went even paler as the next shock hit. His head slammed backwards into the couch repeatedly as vicious, rhythmic spasms tore at him.

"Aww kid." Bobby looked at him with genuine pity. As the seizure eased off he dabbed away the line of drool leaking down Alec's chin with an oily rag from his pocket, then carefully swiped his cuff over the sweat beaded forehead. The transgenic lay still, panting, his green eyes dull beneath his drooping eyelashes.  Bobby settled more comfortably on the edge of the couch, keeping a hand reassuringly on one shoulder; after a while Alec drifted off into a light doze.

.

_Even shark DNA only keeps you awake so long. By mid-morning Max was feeling the strain. Later she would blame being tired for nearly walking straight into the clutches of Ames White. The alternative, that she was worried enough by Alec’s disappearance to be seriously distracted, was ridiculous._

_If it hadn’t been for her enhanced sense of smell, she would have been taken. Fortunately a stray trickle of air seeping around the street stall brought her a scent to her nostrils that jerked her out of her thoughts and into the present with a shock. White. Much too close._

_Max reacted immediately, actually feeling White’s fingers graze her sleeve as she threw her leg over her bike and pedalled furiously into the crowd. A hum of swearing rose behind her as she forced herself through the throng._

_Running footsteps behind gave way to the noise of a car door slamming and the roar of an engine. She swerved, dodged, almost fell but regained her balance with cat-like ease._

_She took a short cut through a narrow alley, barely wide enough for her bike to fit through. The sector police were ahead, grim faced behind their barrier. Max swerved past the queuing vehicles, unzipped her jacket to show her cleavage to maximum advantage, plastered on her widest smile and flashed her sector pass at the nearest policeman. He made a cursory inspection of her pass, took a long stare at her cleavage and raised the barrier. She was underneath it and away while it was still rising._

_Three swift turns later and she was in the maze of passageways leading alongside the wire fence separating one sector from another. She approached the fence cautiously, glad that her Jam Pony bag had lost its logo._

_White’s sleek black car was on the other side of the wire, snarled up in the traffic waiting to get through the barrier. He got out of the car, glancing up at a nearby hovering drone, before staring at her through the wire._

_“452.”_

_Max scowled at him. He wasn’t going to jump the wire with the drone overhead._

_White grinned, pulling his lips back from his square, white teeth. “Next time, 452. I’m going to get you; then I’m going to get your mouthy friend 494 and I’m gonna make you both wish you’d never been cooked up in that petri dish.”_

_Max’s stomach churned. She managed a sneer at White, flipped him the finger and rode off with her heart thumping. White didn’t have Alec, that was good, but where was he? She’d already checked his apartment and nothing was missing so it was unlikely he’d left town for a few days. She was starting to fear the worst. A nagging thought was making its way to the surface_ _. Did the big X5 suffer seizures; he’d never mentioned them. There’d been no sign of tryptophan in his apartment or locker. Had he seized in the alleyway and just crawled off to die somewhere?_

_Max turned into the Jam Pony entrance, dashing quickly at her eyes. He was a pain in the ass, but the thought that the glinting green eyes and cocky smirk might be gone was surprisingly painful. It was far too quiet without his snarky comments._

_._

Alec raised his head, a dazed look on his face, when Dean burst back into the room and snatched up a whiskey tumbler from Bobby’s desk.  A generous glassful of milk was pushed under his nose at the same time as a steady hand supported his neck.  Grateful, Alec drank, managing almost two full glasses before subsiding with a groan.

"'M tired," he muttered, shivering.

Dean pulled a blanket over him and palmed his forehead.  "Get some rest, I’m gonna be right here."

Bobby's brusque tones carried in through the open door.  "Yeah I figure that'll do the trick. I'll come m’self. Be there in ‘bout an hour."  He stuck his head through the doorway, keys jangling in his hand.

"You boys got this? I'm gonna go get some pure Tryptophan."

.

Sam raised his head from the laptop.  “I don’t get this… everything I can find says taking Tryptophan in excess can lead to higher levels of serotonin; Alec says X5s have a serotonin imbalance, right?  But too much serotonin _causes_ seizures?”

Dean frowned. “Let’s not go all geek on this stuff, okay?  If Alec says he needs Tryptophan, we’ll get him Tryptophan.”

Alec answered without opening his eyes. His voice was shaky and weak. “Our genetic modifications are kinda extreme.  Manticore made us pop supplements every morning and one of ‘em was Tryptophan.” He sighed.  “I made it my business to know what the supplements were… I had a few things working on the side, selling ‘em to the guards. Max took it to control her seizures, before Manticore fixed her. We’re all meant to be fixed, but some X5s get an imbalance anyway.”  The speech seemed to exhaust him and he curled in on himself.

Sam pushed gently, needing more information.  “How did Manticore treat them, if they seized?”

“Big dose of Tryptophan.”

“And then, if that didn’t work?” It was better to know the worst case scenario now, Sam thought, while Alec was able to talk.

Alec pushed his face further into the ripped cushion.  His tone was dull.  “Terminated; they were terminated.”

“Sonofabitch!  I hate those freaks. What kinda people…” Dean’s face was tight in the cold light from the window. “I’d like to pay ‘em a visit!”

Sam shut his laptop and made his way over to Alec. “Bobby should be on the way back,” he said reassuringly. He noticed that Alec’s cheeks were flushed red, contrasting sharply with his pale face. When Dean looked like that it was usually the sign of a fever.  He laid a cool palm onto Alec’s forehead; the skin was furnace hot. “You’re running quite a fever there, dude.  Hey Dean, has Bobby got any clean cloths around?”

Dean hunted through Bobby’s pile of clean laundry, which was balanced precariously on one of the kitchen surfaces. He returned with a wet cloth and a bowl of cold water. Sam wrung out the cloth and laid it on the burning forehead. Tired eyes opened briefly and shut again.

“I’m freezin’.” Alec shuddered.

“You’re burning up; it’s the seizures making you feel cold. We just need to lower your temperature a bit.”

Sam could feel Dean close behind him, hovering anxiously. He looked over his shoulder. His brother looked exhausted, deep shadows around his eyes, stubble pencilled dark against the pale skin over his lips and along his jaw.

“Dean, did you sleep at all last night man?” There was no answer.  “Hey, how about you make us some coffee, I could use a cup.”

“Yeah.” Dean dragged his fingers and thumb along his jaw, the dry rasping sound audible in the silent room. “Coffee.”  He retreated to the kitchen.

Sam had just re-dipped the cloth when Alec made a little hissing noise. He grasped at his thigh, raising himself to a sitting position.

“Not again.”  There was despair in his words.

“Could you use some more milk?” Sam glanced at the half-full carton.

“Nah…”  Alec’s breaths were speeding up as his lips thinned out in a grimace.  “It’ll make me puke.” He panted harder, once, twice, grabbed at Sam’s shirt and seized.

“Shit, Alec!” Sam could hear the transgenic’s teeth grating as the stitches on his shirt gave way. It was a good thing Alec hadn’t taken hold of his wrist.

Sam was pushing up to his feet, ready to stop Alec rolling off the couch, when his own head was taken in a vice-like grip. At first he thought it was Alec, but then a familiar pain lanced through his skull. He dropped onto his knees on the carpet, gripping at his head as though he was trying to drive his fingers through bone and into brain.  Not now, not now, he thought, but the vision sucked him in.

.

Bobby heard Dean shouting for him as soon as he opened the car door. He got into the house as fast as his legs would carry him.

“A little help here, Bobby!”

“Bullcrap!” Bobby pulled up short, not sure what to deal with first.

Dean looked up at him with an expression of desperation; he was sitting on the floor with his back against a stack of books.  Alec lay on the floor on one side of him, his head cushioned on Dean’s thigh.  He was shaking, tremors wracking his body.  Dean had a hand on his head, running his fingers soothingly through the sweat soaked hair. Dean’s other arm was clasping Sam tight against his side. Sam had his knees drawn up to his chest and was holding his head.

“What the hell is goin’ on?”

“Sam got a vision." Dean lowered his head to Sam's, lips brushing against his brother’s shaggy hair. "Okay there Sammy. I gotcha."  He looked back to Bobby.  "Get some meds into Alec, he’s not gonna last much longer like this.”

Bobby snatched up the milk carton and pushed to Alec’s side. He eased him up into a sitting position, taking in the tear tracks on the grey pallor of his face and the way his fingers were clutching at Dean’s shirt. Alec had long since given up all pretence of being okay.

“Make it st… stop… p…please.”

“Open your mouth, kiddo.” Bobby dropped a pill at the back of Alec’s tongue and held the milk to his shaking mouth. Alec swallowed, choked, coughed, but eventually the pill went down. Bobby repeated the procedure twice more, then rolled Alec down onto his side, propping him up with a couple of cushions. He dragged the blanket off the couch and tucked it round his shuddering body, praying that the meds were right. He didn’t think Alec could take much more.

“Hang in there boy. We gotcha; y’gonna feel better soon.”

Bobby turned his attention to Sam. He was sipping water from a bottle as Dean rubbed his back soothingly. Sam looked wrecked; he tried to speak to Bobby, but he cut him off. “Tell me later kiddo. Get y’self together first.” He dropped another blanket around Sam’s shoulders.

“Okay.” Sam’s breath puffed out; he leant back against the stack of books, clearly worn out.

“That was about as fun as getting kicked in the jewels.” Dean’s voice cracked as he stood up. Bobby swung to face him, took one look at his face and the way he was swaying and nudged him backwards into an armchair.

“Balls! Put your ass on that chair; I don’t want all three of you layin’ on the carpet.” He grabbed hold of Dean’s jaw, turning his face upwards. “Ya look like shit, y’silly son of a bitch!  Have y’slept at all lately?”

“What? Yeah… I’ve slept! Lemme up. Sam, Alec…” The words were slow, too slow.

“Shut up y’idjit! Sit down!”  Bobby scowled at him, not liking the grey cast to his features. He wagged a finger in a threatening manner.  “You’re playin’ wounded and later you an’ me are gonna talk.”

Dean made a move to get up. Bobby laid a hand firmly against his chest. “Y’move, I’m gonna kick y’stupid ass!”

Dean subsided. For a fleeting second Bobby thought he looked almost grateful.


	15. Chapter 15

Sam broke the silence first. “Well, that was a hell of a morning.” He finished off the last of the water from his bottle and rubbed his mouth. “Feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“Right back atcha.” Bobby sent him a sharp look. “Anythin’ in that vision of yours we need to know about real urgent?”

Sam shook his head, the weight of his thoughts pulling his brows into a frown. “I think it’ll have to wait ‘til Alec wakes up. It was in Seattle; I saw the Space Needle, but Seattle wasn’t looking too good.” He noted with relief that Alec seemed to be deeply asleep, still on the floor but all cocooned with cushions and blankets. “I don’t want to disturb him.”

Intriguing, thought Bobby. Had Sam had a vision from Alec’s world? Was that even possible? He focussed on the pasty color of Sam’s normally tanned skin and pushed any thoughts of visions to the background.

“In that case, princess, get y’self to bed and get y’head down. I ain’t gonna be happy if I see ya again before chow time.” Bobby glanced behind him. “And go quiet on those oversized hooves of yours, y’brother is catchin’ up on his beauty sleep.”

Sam stood up quietly, peering into the armchair. Dean was a careless sprawl of long legs and dangling arms and seemed to have shrunk inside his layers of jacket and shirts. Someone, probably Bobby, had slipped a cushion between his head and the wing of the armchair. The slow rise and fall of his chest proved that he was, finally, asleep. If the shadows in the hollows under his cheekbones and beneath the dark spread of his lashes were anything to go by, it was a sleep long overdue.

Sam slipped the blanket from around his own shoulders and very, very carefully laid it over his brother. He hovered a moment, resisting an urge to indulge in a sentimental moment and do something soft like pulling the blanket up to Dean’s chin or rubbing a hand over his spiky hair.

Bobby’s voice was gruff behind him. “I’ll watch him, boy. Get goin’.”

Sam pulled himself away reluctantly. He sent a small, grateful smile to the older hunter and headed for the stairs.

.

Afternoon slipped into evening. Bobby made coffee and stew and fed the dog. Alec and Dean still didn’t look like they were moving any time soon and when he checked the bedroom, Sam was just a tuft of messy hair sticking out of a roll of bedding. Bobby was feeling a little worn himself, so in the end he grabbed the blankets off his own bed and settled down on the couch, just in case Alec woke up and needed help in the night.

.

Alec was first to awake, his eyelids lifting to let in the wintry dawn. It was warm in his cosy nest of cushions and blankets and he lay there for a few moments, reluctant to let in the frigid air despite the uncomfortable grind of the floor against his hip bone and his need to relieve himself. Eventually he moved cautiously, grateful to find that his muscles responded correctly; they were really sore and stiff, but he figured that was to be expected.

A tub of Tryptophan and a carton of milk were balanced on three books within arm’s reach. Alec raised himself on one elbow and took a pill immediately with a good few swallows of milk. If the shakes never returned, it would still be too soon.

Bobby was grunting and snoring like a hibernating bear on the couch behind him and Dean’s deep, slow breaths sounded from the armchair. Even from this distance the muffled thump of his heartbeat sounded stronger, the pulse of his life a little less ragged with the press of exhaustion pushed away by a good night’s sleep. Sam was missing, but a minute creak of a bedspring from the upstairs area suggested he was probably sleeping in the bedroom.

Alec pushed back the warmth of the blankets and rose, slow but graceful even with his aching body. The corner of his mouth stretched upwards in a little grin at the sight of Bobby’s whiskers sucking in and out with his snores. He padded silently over to the armchair, grimacing at the pull of dried sweat in the material of his clothes. He needed a shower.

Some sixth sense had Dean’s eyes opening even as Alec came into view around the armchair. He focussed immediately. “Alec? You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Shakes have gone.” Alec stretched out the ache in his muscles; a long, slow, bone-popping kind of stretch. He hid a wince and slid a smirk onto his face and a twinkle into his eyes as he reached out a hand to Dean, who was unfolding himself from the armchair.

“Need a hand there? ‘Cause you know, you are getting’ on a bit.”

Dean scowled and straightened up, rolling his shoulders. He batted away Alec’s hand and comment automatically, thoughts of Manticore overriding the jibe from the younger man.

“If I ever meet up with those sonsabitches from Manticore, I’m gonna rip their lungs out.”

“Aww… didn’t know you cared.” Alec ducked his chin and grinned cheekily up at Dean, trying to keep it light, despite the warm feeling in his chest caused by his hazy recollections of the previous day; real evidence that, at last, someone did actually care.

Dean saw the deflection for what it was and played along, knowing how much he hated chick flick moments himself. He grinned back, raising an eyebrow lazily. “Who says I care; mebbe I had plans yesterday that didn’t include looking after a pain in the ass clone.”

Alec dropped his eyes, his lips still curved in a little smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry about that.” He shuffled his feet, suddenly awkward, finding himself again in a situation where his survival had depended on someone else’s care. “I’m gonna take a shower.” He headed for the door, slapping Dean on the chest as he passed. “Thanks man.”

.

“That’s all I got.” Sam kneaded at the ache in his forehead. “I’m sorry Alec; that’s all I saw.”

Alec ground his teeth in frustration. They’d gone over and over Sam’s vision but it was so vague, just a series of images. Sam had definitely seen Seattle, Alec’s Seattle, with its debris and graffiti and crowds of strangely dressed humans.

Sam closed his eyes, concentrating, going over it one last time.

“A man, I didn’t see his face, collecting money outside a place called the ‘Light of Life Mission’. Two guys on motorcycles, I didn’t see their faces either but one had really dark hair and the other was just a blur. Then the dark haired guy lying on the ground, being beaten. Later he’s hung upside down next to a burning cross…” The muscles in Sam’s throat worked as he swallowed convulsively, still feeling sick at the mental image. “…the way he’s hanging, I think he’s dead. There’s a barcode on the back of his neck, like yours. And there’s a mob and TV cameras and some reporter talking about transgenic freaks. And that was it man, I’m sorry.”

Sam dropped his head into his hands, the images burnt into his mind.

Alec was on his feet, pacing, tense with stress.

“I gotta get back. They’re gonna need my help!”

“Steady there.” Bobby’s voice cut through the fog of tension. “First off, we dunno how to get you back. Yet. But I’m working on that. Second, this vision is in _your_ Seattle. That means it’s at least fourteen, fifteen years in the future, so there ain’t no rush.”

He paused, watching the younger men’s faces flit through a variety of expressions as that information sunk in.

“You’re _all_ kinda busted up. Sit back and kick y’heels for a spell. First we gotta figure out _how_ to get Alec back.”

Like it or not, it made sense. Most things Bobby said made sense, even if you weren’t too happy to hear them at the time.

.

_“Hey, big fella!” Max spread a warm smile across her face and pushed the door open. The smell of oil paints and thinners hit her in a powerful wave and made her nose wrinkle._

_Joshua turned, a surprisingly happy grin on his face. He’d been moping for Alec. Max couldn’t quite get her head around the fact that anyone could miss Alec’s smart mouth and uncaring attitude as much as Joshua did. It was good to see him more cheerful. He was painting on a large canvas and Max stepped closer to see._

_“Little fella,” Joshua boomed enthusiastically, waving a brush laden with yellow paint around. A fair amount detached itself from the bristles and spattered across the room. Max retreated a little, wiping a blob of yellow off her cuff._

_“That’s a new one?” She gestured at the large painting, slightly mesmerised by the multi-colored patterns splashed across the canvas._

_“Yes. Big fella is drawing Alec.” Joshua beamed at her._

_“Oh.” Max sighed. “I’m sorry Joshua. I haven’t found him yet.” She watched her friend anxiously._

_To her surprise, Joshua smiled again, waving his brush airily around. “No need to be looking for Alec. Medium fella is safe with himself and the brother.”_

_Max’s forehead creased in confusion. “Alec is by himself? What brother?” Surely there wasn’t another clone?_

_“No. Not Alec with Alec! Alec is with himself, older Alec. And older Alec’s brother, lotsa hair.”_

_He jabbed a paint streaked finger at the canvas. “Look! Here is Alec…” A pretty swirl of yellow, orange and red, with a jagged dark centre. “…and here is older Alec…” The finger pointed to a splash of emerald green and a brown that put Max in mind of distressed leather, all coiled about with what appeared to be twisted dark roots. “…and the brother…” Soft blues and greens and browns this time, with a harsh streak of bright yellow in the centre._

_Max’s bewilderment was easy to see on her face. “You’ve seen Alec?” Why hadn’t Joshua told her!_

_“Yes.” Joshua beamed. “Big fella is dreaming and seeing Alec with older Alec. And the brother. They all help each other.”_

_Max tried very hard to get more information but Joshua was adamant. Alec was with ‘older Alec’ and his brother; Max shouldn’t worry herself about them._

_._

“I got it.” Alec nudged Bobby aside with his shoulder and started reassembling the Dodge’s engine, his hands moving swiftly and surely.

Bobby watched, his eyebrows rising gradually higher.

The last piece in place, Alec turned, cocky smirk firmly in place. Bobby grumbled an acknowledgement. The kid sure learned fast. He said as much to Dean as Alec sauntered out of the workshop.

“Alec does everything fast.” Dean noted. He looked up from under the hood of the Impala and gestured at the reassembled engine. “You about ready to put that back in?”

“Yeah.” Bobby craned his head around the door frame. Alec was strolling back in their direction, the necks of three bottles of beer caught between his fingers. “Let’s see how strong that boy really is.”

.

The engine went back in with ease. Bobby finished the last few bolts and wiped his hands on a greasy rag.

“You did good,” he allowed begrudgingly, slapping Alec on the shoulder. “Go fix y’self somethin’ to eat. Me and Dean’ll finish up.”

Accurately surmising that he’d been dismissed, Alec sloped off. There was something going on with Dean and from Bobby’s expression and accelerated pulse rate he was about to tackle the subject. He rounded the corner of the workshop and stopped, leaning casually up the wall, well within range of any conversation.

.

Dean watched Alec leave with something akin to dismay. The transgenic wasn’t the only one who was good at reading people. Bobby clearly had something he wanted to say and Dean was equally sure he didn’t want to hear it. He eyed the older man warily.

Bobby took off his grimy baseball cap and twisted it around in his hands for a moment before jamming it back on his head.

“Known you boys a hell of a long time,” he stated.

Dean dipped his head in acknowledgement, his heart rate accelerating and nausea beginning to curl in his stomach.

“Never wanted to see either of ya in the state y’was in after your Daddy passed.”

Dean sucked in a breath, held it.

“Now you bin away a while and I figured when y’came back… well…you’d be gettin’ y’heads around it. But you’re here, and you ain’t gettin’ your heads around it at all. Seems to me it’s affectin’ ya worse than ever and that ain’t natural.”

“Bobby. I’m fine.”

“No goddamit, you’re not fine, y’idjit! I’ve known ya since y’were knee high an’ one thing I know for sure is you ain’t fine… not even close to it.”

Dean closed his eyes, grating his teeth. He didn’t feel as though he even knew what ‘fine’ was any more.

“Tell me what’s wrong kiddo. ‘Cause you’re so wound up you’re gonna explode. Y’can’t go on like that, you’re gonna get yourself killed, or get someone else killed.”

Dean snorted, his eyes flying open. Bobby was shocked by the bitterness on his face, in the grate of his voice. “Get someone killed. Yeah, I’m real good at that.”

“What the hell are y’talking about?”

“Dad! It’s my fault he’s dead, okay!”

“What! ‘Course it ain’t _your_ fault. He died, kid. And now he’s moved on and you gotta do the same!”

“No Bobby!” A throaty growl. “It’s my fault! I was dying, in that hospital. Dammit, I died! And Dad, he made some sorta deal…” Dean’s voice broke. He hurled the spanner in his hand across the workshop. It slammed into a box of parts, die-cast pieces scattering across the metal work surface with a discordant tune.

Bobby blanched. “Deal?” His face screwed up, disbelieving. “What kinda deal?”

Dean’s voice was raw. “He traded his life, for mine.” He stepped up to Bobby, taking hold of his upper arms in a vice like grip, not even realising what he was doing. “And you know what really sucks? He’s not moved on. He’s in hell, fuckin’ _burning_ … being _tortured…_ FOR ME.” His voice quavered, bottom lip beginning to tremble.

Bobby cupped his hand around the back of the younger man’s neck, giving him a little shake. “What are y’talking about? How could y’even know that?”

“The demon bitch at the crossroads, she told me.” It was a hoarse whisper, the shadow of nightmares visible in the vivid eyes.

“Demons lie, all the time, y’know that.”

Dean shook his head, misery twisting his features. “She wasn’t lying. Just think about it Bobby, one minute I’m dying, being jump-started… Dad is okay. Then suddenly I get some miracle cure and Dad is dead.”

Bobby swallowed. It made sense. He wished it didn’t, but it did. He focussed on the grief stricken face in front of him, saw the damage that the deal had done spilling out over Dean’s eyelashes and streaking down his cheek.

“Aww Dean, don’t… C’m here kiddo.” He pulled his surrogate son into a big, warm bear hug, wishing he could take the pain for himself. Of all the people in the world, maybe Dean was the one least able to bear this burden. Loyal, self-sacrificing Dean, who thought he was worth nothing and already carried around a load of guilt that would crush most people.

_“Damn you, Winchester,”_ he thought, even though he knew he’d do the same thing himself to save the boy. _“Goddamn y’for doing that to Dean.”_

“He wasn’t meant to go out like that…making a deal with that yellow eyed sonofabitch.” Dean’s breathing hitched, hot and anguished against Bobby’s neck. “What am I gonna do? How am I ever gonna put this right?”

Bobby put his big gnarled hand up and took hold of the back of the younger man’s head, the short hair soft against his rough fingers. He pulled Dean tight into his shoulder and held him there, rubbing his back with the other hand. He could hear himself making comforting noises and muttering reassurances, even though he had no idea how to make things right.


	16. Chapter 16

Sam was maneuvering the heavy weapons' bag out through the doorway when he caught sight of Bobby’s pensive expression. He stopped. 

"You're doing the right thing."

"Am I? I sure as hell hope so."  Bobby rasped at his whiskers with his gnarled fingertips.

"They're going stir crazy here." Sam nodded his head in the direction of the Impala, where Alec and Dean were jostling in a good natured way.  "It'll get Dean's mind off things and we'll get a chance to show Alec what hunting, Winchester-style, is all about." 

"Yeah an' I can get down to some serious research without them idjits under m'feet. Sure _you_ don't want to stay?"

"Nah." Sam grinned. "Someone with a brain has to go." 

Bobby huffed a gruff laugh. "Y'ain't wrong.  Keep an eye on 'em."

"Always do."

Sam patted him on the arm and stepped out of the door. 

"If you find anything..." 

"I'll be sure an' let ya know." 

Bobby watched them drive away. There was a car load of angst if ever he'd seen one. Vision-plagued Sam, Dean tormented by his father's actions and for sure still hiding something and Alec, wound tight as a spring. Sam was right; a hunt would focus them on something else.  Bobby had a theory he wanted to concentrate on and to concentrate properly you needed noisy, needy boys out of the way. 

.

Bobby's instructions took them to the hot sunshine of a Californian city. It wasn't Palo Alto, but the shady boulevards and palatial residences, the gaggle of students with their bright chatter, the coffee shops, all combined to make Sam feel both at home and uneasy at the same time.

They booked into a motel just outside the university area. It was a cut above their usual choice, but the convenient location made it worth the extra dollars. As an added bonus, the air conditioning worked and the bath looked nice enough to actually sit in without catching a disease. There were even complimentary bath and shampoo sachets and, to Dean's vast amusement, a small free rubber duck wearing a pirate's hat and an eye patch.

They dropped off the bags and headed out into the early evening for food and a few beers.

"These Californian chicks, dude, you gotta see 'em." Dean winked at Alec, who raised a nonchalant eyebrow.  

"I've been here before y’know." His face played out a charade, eyes glinting and lips pulling into a smirk, but the flat tone of his voice spoiled the performance. "I’ve travelled around quite a bit." The laugh lines by his eyes were suddenly weary.

Dean’s gaze was steady. “Guess it wasn’t a holiday in the sun then, huh?”

Alec dropped his chin and his eyes with a small huff of laughter. “I guess you could say that.”

Pushing just a little, Dean tried a friendly, easy grin. “Always good to mix a little fun with business.”

“Yeah.” Alec shuffled his boot toe against the sidewalk, the memory of a young brother and sister forcing its way through the barriers he kept in his mind. Young… in fact about the same physical age as himself, but in some ways he’d already been old and worn beyond belief. They’d seemed so immature, childish even, with their trusting eyes and easy lifestyles, welcoming him into their home, never suspecting they were unleashing a tiger in a nest of soft, domestic birds. Alec had smiled and joked and played the bright, social game the way he’d been instructed. Two days later, he was heading north, leaving their father floating face down in their luxury heated swimming pool.

He grinned at Dean, no trace of humor reaching his eyes. “Always good.”

**.**

_The FBI helicopter circled briefly in the darkness and came down on its designated landing pad at the safe house near to Seattle. Ames White stepped clear of the whirling blades and straight into the comfort of the waiting limousine. The armor plating muffled the whump of the departing helicopter as the glass division between Ames and the chauffeur slid back with a quiet, mechanical whirring noise._

_“It’s all arranged, Sir.”_

_Ames nodded, recognising the familiar by sight. “The interrogation?”_

_“Under way, Sir, as you requested. There will be a small traffic accident on the main route into the city. It will allow sufficient time for you to stop off at the interrogation site without raising suspicion at central HQ.”_

_“Good.” Ames settled back in the comfortable leather seat as the glass panel closed._

_The abandoned warehouse was a derelict hulk left over from pre-pulse posterity, sitting in a sea of cracked concrete amid the rusting remains of delivery vehicles. A side door raised as the limousine approached. Ames stepped inside. The transgenic was slumped in a chair in a pool of light, in the centre of the large empty building._

_“Sir?” A nervous voice piped up from his side. Ames glared impatiently at the small man._

_“Well?” He demanded._

_“He, er, he does know X5-452, Sir.”_

_“Good.” Ames was pleased. Perhaps at last his hunt for the elusive ‘Max’, as she liked to call herself, was about to reach a satisfactory conclusion._

_“I asked about 494, Sir, as you requested. 452 is looking for him herself; it appears she has no idea of his whereabouts.”_

_Ames raised an eyebrow. “No idea?”_

_“None, Sir.” The interrogator was firm. “I quote directly here Sir, ‘it’s as though he vanished off the face of the earth’.”_

_Something tweaked at a corner of Ames’ impressive memory. He nodded slowly._

_“Well done. And 452, you know her whereabouts?”_

_The interrogator shifted awkwardly, his eyes flicking nervously to the side._

_“Er, no, Sir.”_

_“No? Then why are you standing here. Get back to it. I need to know 452’s location. Immediately.”_

_“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Sir.” A pink tongue darted out, licking at the interrogator’s thin lips._

_“Not possible?” Ames’ voice was mild._

_“I’m afraid the transgenic died under interrogation, before that question was answered.”_

_“He died.” The controlled violence in the quiet voice was unmistakeable._

_“I’m really sorry, Sir.”_

_“Of course you are.” Ames smiled, patting the man on his shoulder with a gloved hand. He raised his voice to reach the shadowy figure standing behind the slumped transgenic. “Clean up this mess.”_

_“Sir.” The shadowy figure stepped forwards, began to untie the bonds on the transgenic’s wrists._

_Ames walked away. In the entrance he turned; the interrogator stared at him, his eyes wide as a rabbit’s in headlights. Ames pulled out his pistol. “I don’t accept failure.” A neat hole blossomed in the centre of the interrogator’s forehead._

_Ames sighed, holstered his pistol and returned to his limousine._

.

Sam stretched out his stride, responding to Dean’s impatient beckoning gesture. Alec and Dean were a half block ahead of him, gliding through the throng of young people by the restaurants and bars. Sam’s long legs closed the distance easily; he’d fallen behind when he’d spotted an interesting looking book in an old shop. The cashier was about to lock up but accepted Sam’s hastily thrust twenty dollars with a vague air that suggested he didn’t own the shop and probably wouldn’t be putting the twenty dollars in the till the next morning.

“Oh my god…!” “Did you see that? There’s _two_ of them!” “They are so _hot!_ I’ve died an’ gone to heaven!”

Sam’s height enabled him to see Dean and Alec over the crowd, but he reflected sourly that he’d have been able to track them easily enough even if he was only three feet tall. He stepped impatiently through a group of excited females scattered across the sidewalk.

 _“Fish,”_ he thought. _“Pretty little fish, swimming happily along and now flapping in shoals, excited by denim clad hips and green eyes cruising along their florescent reef of bars and cafes.”_ He slowed his pace a little, thinking it might be preferable to slide unnoticed into the bar in their wake.

Some sixth sense alerted Dean to his little brother’s decision and he slowed, turning to face Sam. Alec turned with him, grinning cheekily. A mutter of appreciation rose around Sam as he stepped forwards reluctantly.

“That one is mine!” “He is a hottie all right.” “Look at that _hair!_ So long, I just want to run my fingers through it… and over everythin’ else!”

With a start, Sam realised the fluttering female lashes were now also focussed on him. He blushed, pushed the book into his pocket, pulled his shoulders back a little and stepped in between Dean and Alec. He slapped them both on the shoulder and grinned back. Sometimes, when he was following Dean, he just forgot he wasn’t an ungainly fourteen year old any more.

.

“So we’re goin’ werewolf hunting? That’ll be interesting.” Alec’s glass twirled lazily on the beer wet table. “Lycanthropy… that originated from the Greek lykoi for wolf and anthropos for man.”

“You studied some mythology?”

Alec shrugged. “A little; we touched on it briefly as part of our common behavioural lessons, y’know, Halloween, horror films, general knowledge. And Greek was one of the languages we learned.”

“You speak several languages then?” Sam sounded impressed.

“Yeah, a few. We were meant to be able to operate anywhere globally.”

“There’s a lot of lore on werewolves…” Sam settled back, his expression slipping into one Dean thought of as his professor mask. “The first accounts of werewolves are brought to us by Ancient Greek literature. You may be familiar with the Metamorphoses? Ovid told of the Arcadian King, Lycaeon…”

Dean tuned out, feeling lost in the talk of literature and languages. He knew the facts and the mythology. More importantly he knew werewolves, their weaknesses, where and how they hunted and how to kill them. He made an unseen gesture with his glass and headed for the bar, feeling a bit lost and lonely.

Another beer and a whiskey chaser arrived as he slouched, letting his gaze slide over the clientele. He could tell from the interested glances that he wouldn’t be sitting alone for long. To his surprise, an elbow nudged his immediately. He turned; it was Alec.

“You comin’ back? You kinda ran off there.”

“No dude.” Dean forced a smile. “It’s good for geek boy to have someone along he can have an intelligent conversation with, y’know.”

Alec swirled the whiskey in his shot glass, looking keenly at Dean. “He can’t have an intelligent conversation with you?”

Dean dropped his head, nudging his shot glass along the surface. He grinned, taking some of the seriousness away from his words. “Sam’s a genius, y’know? Got a full ride for Stanford and everythin’. I’m not all that clever. I figure he kinda misses havin’ academic friends around sometimes.”

Alec tossed his shot back and banged the glass on the bar. “You’re not that clever, huh? Don’t know what they were thinkin’ then.”

Dean stared at him, his eyebrows curling with confusion.

“You know my IQ is really high, right? Partly that’s because I have this awesome brain. Then Manticore, they taught us stuff right from birth.” Alec grimaced. “Failure wasn't an option. They had this great incentive programme. Basically if you failed a subject, you got terminated. That kind of concentrates your attention, know what I mean? So whatever brain power I had, it was focussed, strengthened, real early on.”

He gestured to the barman for another whiskey. “That’s the thing though, y’know? They could only _train_ what I had, get every ounce of IQ out of it. The brain itself… that’s the human part of my cocktail. The big cat genes… they give me speed, agility, enhanced senses. But the brain… that’s all from my human donor.”

He met Dean’s wide-eyed stare. “From you, Dean.” Alec smirked suddenly. “So don’t be going around tellin’ everyone you’re not a genius, ‘cause man I don’t want crap like that to get about.”

He stood up, slapping Dean on the chest as he moved away. “Personally, I’m kinda happy with my donor. You comin’ back over? Sammy is lookin’ lonely over there. Then maybe we can get to know some of these Californian chicks.” He winked cheekily. “Betcha I pull one before you do.”

Dean blinked, let a grin grow on his face. The bet was on… and he wasn’t even going to call Alec on saying ‘Sammy’.


	17. Chapter 17

It two days of pondering and head scratching and hunting through old boxes of notes before Bobby was able to lift his cap and run his fingers across his scalp.

“Well ain’t that somethin’.”

He plodded into the kitchen, chasing the aroma of strong coffee steaming in the pot. He sloshed a generous helping into a thick, chipped mug and laid a handful of crumpled notes almost reverently on the table next to his scribblings and books, directly below the pages torn from John’s diary.

There it was, the thing that had been nagging at the back of his brain ever since he’d shown the pages to the boys.

He looked first at the diary pages, covered in John’s untidy script. They were dated 25th – the day of Dean’s operation, 26th – the day John and Dean ended up spending the majority of the day and part of the following night in an alternative reality, 27th – the morning a delirious John arrived back in Sioux Falls.

His gaze switched to the crumpled notes… John’s original notes, copied days later into the diary. 25th – the day of the operation. 26th – the day John and Dean were absent from this reality. _26 th_ – the morning John arrived back in Sioux Falls. Arrived back in Sioux Falls hours _before_ he’d left the alternative reality. At the time Bobby had put it down to John being so ill. Even so, some instinct had prompted him to keep those original scribbled notes.

The penultimate piece of the puzzle fell into place. John was pulled through into an alternative reality, with Dean, because his double was on the other side. Alec had been pulled through to Dean. So how had John returned the first time? He’d returned to this reality almost at the same moment he’d left; pulled through the barrier by his own presence.

“I figure that means we can get Alec back where he rightfully belongs… and how in hell am I gonna break that piece of news. Balls! It woulda been easier if the kid had no choice but to stay. I ain’t sure them boys can take losin’ anybody else.” Bobby sighed, scrubbing his knuckles into his tired eyes.

The big question remained. It seemed John’s double had known what would happen? How had he known?

.

Bobby wasn’t the only one digging through his memories. Separated from the grizzled hunter by an incalculable distance and time, Ames White was using his considerable mental powers to reach a conclusion of his own to a question that had raised itself when that phrase “vanished off the face of the earth” had rolled off the interrogator’s tongue.

A phone call to a close associate in the familiars and an hour or so of impatient waiting ended with the ping of a message being received. He opened the attachment eagerly and allowed a smile to stretch his lips. The document was a copy of old research records compiled by the familiars into the early activities of the organisation that would ultimately become known as Manticore. He read for a while and then called for his car. Minutes later he was heading South.

.

Alec’s evening had been successful. It was up for debate whether it was himself or Dean who had first attracted what Dean classed as a “hot chick”. The only impartial observer, Sam, was most likely unable to give a decision. He’d been surrounded by a gathering of college girls who were completely overawed that someone with such an awesome physique could also have a mind as academically sharp as a razor blade.

The end result of Alec’s very successful evening was that he’d had very little sleep and was flat out in the motel room, breathing so deeply it almost sounded as though he was purring. Even transgenics needed to sleep sometimes.

Deeply asleep or not, Alec was on his feet and in combat mode at the first whimper of distress. It took him only seconds to analyse that there was no perceivable threat, that Sam was still absent and that Dean was having a nightmare.

Dean having nightmares wasn’t unusual. Since the night in the Impala, Alec had become accustomed to the disturbed dreams of the Winchesters. Both brothers seemed to suffer from some suppressed agony that seeped out through the chinks in their sleep-loosened armor. Time and time again he’d listened, watched through his lashes, as whoever was suffering torment was soothed by a word, a gentle hand reaching across to touch a shoulder. The comfort was given and received, usually without either party fully waking, demonstrating each time how much the brothers trusted and depended on each other.

Tonight, Sam was absent. Alec bit his lip, uncertain what to do as Dean’s distress visibly increased, his hands pulling helplessly at the sheets and his expression crumpling.

“Dad!”

Alec stepped forwards, silent and light as a breath of air. In the Impala his touch, his voice, had helped. But Dean habitually slept with a knife under his pillow and a vicious punch at the end of his arm.

“Dean?”

An anguished mutter answered him.

“Dean.” A little louder this time, but still no response.

Alec reached out cautiously, laying a warm hand on the uncanny familiarity of a shoulder identical to his own. The response was immediate. Dean surged upright, punching out with one hand as the other swept the knife through the air. Alec swayed almost lazily backwards and plucked the knife from Dean’s grip.,

“You want to be careful with that,” he said easily, putting it out of reach and smirking at Dean’s startled, dazed expression.

He leaned forwards and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, pushing him back down with a gentle pressure. Dean frowned up at him. “What the hell are you doin’?"

 

“Nightmare,” said Alec, keeping it short. He wanted to get back to sleep. Dean’s frown twisted in confusion as he tried to work out if it was himself or Alec who’d had a nightmare. It is was him, he was fine. If it was Alec…

“You okay?” Dean’s voice husked. He swallowed, trying to ground himself as his heart continued to thump. Blinking failed to push away the images of John screaming under a demon’s knife.

“Yeah.” Alec thought back to the cold dormitory, the trembling tears in the darkness of scared children and later, traumatised adults. Acting on instinct, he flopped down on the bed beside Dean and turned his back, sneakily stealing part of the blanket.

“Alec? Hey, Alec?”

There was no reply. Alec rubbed his cheek against the pillow and murmured something barely audible. Dean stared at him with a mixture of irritation and concern. Perhaps Alec had a nightmare too? He seemed peaceful enough now. Dean sighed, letting his head fall back on his pillow as a little, fierce tug of protectiveness clenched in his chest.

After a while he turned on his side so he was back to back with Alec. The warmth was nice and he felt unusually safe with someone he could trust at his back.

Alec waited until the breathing behind him evened out and deepened. He smiled into the pillow, decided he was comfy enough where he was and went back to sleep.

.

_John Winchester’s residence was a sorry reflection of the depths to which the former marine had fallen. Ames straightened his tie as he approached the dilapidated trailer. The door was wrenched open and a gaunt man with a grizzled beard and unkept dark hair shot through with gray peered at him from intense dark eyes._

_“FBI,” snapped Ames, brandishing his badge under the man’s nose. “We need to talk.”_

_“We do.” John raised an eyebrow._

_“Manticore,” said Ames. “You’ve got information. The government needs it.”_

_John sighed, a resigned expression crossing his face._

_“Knew this day would come.” He retreated into the trailer. “You’d better come inside.”_

_Ames stepped into the fog of fried food and stale whiskey. John stared at him balefully._

_“You worked for Manticore.” He waved a photograph of the industrial unit housing the laboratory under John’s nose. “Here, you worked here.”_

_“Yeah.” John’s eyes narrowed. “I left.”_

_“Why?”_

_“They were doin’ things I didn’t agree with.” The dark eyed stare was fierce, challenging Ames to disagree._

_"But you took the job. Says what it was, here, in the contract.”_

_John flinched, sighed. “Yeah. I needed the work. Needed the money. It was a good gig. It was okay at first, y’know, volunteers, test tubes, just experimental. Then donors started turning up that didn’t seem to know what was goin’ on…” His voice trailed off as he plucked distractedly at his jacket sleeve with one hand._

_“You walked out. Why?”_

_“I wasn’t happy with what was goin’ on. Told ya that already. Then they brought this kid in…” His head came up, anger pulling his brows down. “That was the end. I wasn’t gonna sit by and let ‘em take DNA from some kid.”_

_Ames smiled an oily smile. “Wasn’t just any kid, was it, John? Or should I say, it wasn’t just any man with him.”_

_John had the grace to look surprised, shocked, maybe even a little relieved._

_Ames laid a hand flat on John’s chest and pushed the older man back. For a moment there was a flicker of controlled rage, an echo of the man John once was and perhaps could still have been if his life had turned out differently. Then he folded onto the stained, built-in couch and stared up at Ames._

_Ames slapped his folder down on the table. “Time to set the record straight, John_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the plot had to move along a little in this chapter. More answers, plenty of action, brotherly bonding and danger to follow soon!  
> Thanks so much for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

Alec spat onto the whetstone; the familiar rhythm of the moving blade was reassuring, familiar. He glanced sideways at Sam; a difficult question had been nagging at him for some time and now seemed as good a moment as any to air it. He pitched his voice so that it carried across the room.

“What happened? To your Dad?”

He kept the knife blade moving, the rasp of metal against the abrasive surface suddenly loud in the room.

Startled, Sam dropped his pen, caught it again and stared at Alec with surprise widening his hazel eyes. Alec was always asking questions, too many questions. Sam had bitten back the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat’ several times before it tripped off his tongue. Questions about everything and everyone, but never yet questions of a deeply personal nature.

He considered his reply carefully, understanding that for some reason this must be important, taking long enough that Alec began to fidget a little. He decided to keep it simple and see what happened.

“We told you. He died in the hospital, after the accident.”

Alec caught and held his gaze. “I think maybe there’s a bit more to it than that?”

There was tension visible now in Sam’s shoulders; the pen flipped and rolled across his knuckles and back again.

“Why?”

“You two don’t sleep so good. I mean, there’s nightmares and then there’s _nightmares_.”

“We see some bad things, always have. I guess sometimes your subconscious revisits them when you’re sleeping.”

Alec nodded, swallowed hard. He was only too aware of how true that was, but Sam still wasn’t answering his question, not really answering it. He tried again.

“You dream about Jess.”

Sam flinched. There was no need to respond to that; it was a statement, not a question. It was also accurate.

“Dean dreams about your Dad, all the time. Why would he do that?”

With sudden clarity Sam recalled that Alec and Dean were sprawled on opposite sides of the same bed when he’d arrived back at the motel room that morning. Had Dean suffered another nightmare? Sam was absent. Had Alec comforted him, just like in the Impala? Of course Alec wanted to know what was tearing at Dean, breaking through the shell of ‘I’m fine’ every time his eyes closed.

“Dean was hurt really bad.” Sam’s face twisted... _Dean’s gray face against the hospital pillows, the ventilator forcing air into his lungs, the way his body arched up as the paddles were applied to his chest. Please Dean, don't die..._ He cleared his throat, forcing himself to continue. “The yellow eyed demon tore him up; the car wreck finished the job. He was dying, Alec. Hell, he did die…” Sam’s voice wavered. “…but they managed to bring him back.”

Alec winced. The blade stilled in his hand. Dean being dead wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

Sam’s voice ground on, raw with pain. “They told us he was gonna die again anyway and there was nothing they could do. Dad was hurt, but he was okay, just kinda beat up. He got all emotional… and believe me Dad wasn’t big on getting emotional. He disappeared for a couple of hours and suddenly Dean was fine; a miracle cure they said. Then Dad was dead…” There was a gulp for breath. “He just died. And the Colt was gone.”

Alec was puzzled. He knew about the Colt, knew it had been taken, but didn’t understand quite what Sam was getting at.

“Dean thinks… we think, Dad made a deal, with the demon. His life for Dean’s.”

Alec’s eyes went wide. “Is that even possible?” The thought of dying for the good of his unit, for the mission, wasn’t foreign. It was, after all, written into Manticore’s standard mission orders. Selling your soul was a new concept.

“Yeah it is.” Sam told Alec about crossroads’ demons, about the kind of deals where souls were the currency.

“Thing is, that last big case we were on… Dean was told some things by the demon he summoned at the crossroads. She told him Dad made a deal.”

“That sucks.” Alec worked it through in his mind. “There’s nothing you can do, right? And your Dad, he made that choice by himself?”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. “He did. The demon wasn’t too happy Dean was trying to deceive her. She made sure Dean knew Dad was in hell, that he was being tortured. That gets to me man, it really does… but Dean, he thinks it’s his fault. He blames himself.”

Alec was uncharacteristically silent. He understood the underlying reason for the nightmares, the guilt fuelling them. But what silenced him was awe, the thought that someone might actually think enough of you to die and go to hell, to be tortured, maybe for ever. He didn’t know what it felt like to have parents, but he thought maybe doing that was a big thing, even if you were someone’s father.

After a while he realised that Sam was still watching him.

“Thanks, for telling me.”

It was inadequate, he knew, but he had nothing better to offer.

He dipped his chin, fixed his gaze back on the whetstone and resumed the slide of the blade. A sharp edged question crawled under his skin, making him uncomfortable. Whatever heroic brand of extreme loyalty had driven John Winchester to take that decision, was it woven into the strands of his son’s DNA and by default, into his own. If it came down to it, would he be brave enough to make that same choice?

In his mind he heard his own voice. _“Well, when the going gets cute, the tough get going.”_ Max’s sharp response, the look of disgust in her big brown eyes, swam before him _. “Figures you’d forget the one good thing Manticore ever taught us – never abandon your unit.”_

He’d left them anyway, abandoned them to their fate, at least for a while. Maybe that was it, why he’d ultimately ended up lonely in his own world. Maybe everyone knew there was something wrong in his make-up, some defect that made him shallow and selfish and unworthy.

Alec kept his head down, pulling another knife from the cloth and running its blade over the whetstone. When he found a way to go home, he’d drag his sorry ass out of here before he could let anyone else down.

.

_John felt trapped, folded onto the too-low couch with his knees jammed against the metal pole that supported the table top._

_He watched warily as Ames White pulled a bottle of John’s whiskey from the shelf and put it on the table with a dull thunk of glass against formica. A couple of glasses joined the bottle and Ames poured them both a shot, tilting his glass towards John in a mock toast._

_John fought it for a moment, then gave in and downed the shot. The familiar burn spread through his gut, doing little to numb the steadily growing feeling that this wasn’t going to end well._

_Ames opened the folder, the papers inside teasing John with their blank edges, their unknown content threatening his safety._

_“So… you left the Marines, went home to Lawrence, Kansas.”_

_John remembered. It seemed like yesterday but, at the same time, so long ago it must surely have happened to a different person._

_“You were settled, took a job as a mechanic, got yourself a girl. ”_

_“Mary.” John’s voice was soft, memories pulling his mouth into a little smile._

_“Then suddenly you up and left, disappeared off the grid until you turned up working for some eccentric scientist near Gillette. What made you leave Lawrence, John?”_

_“What does it matter?” John stared at the file. “It’s old news. You know that much, you know the rest.”_

_Ames slammed his hand on table, making the folder jump briefly into the air._

_"Once a Marine, always a Marine! Government owns you, John. Always has, always will do. Now the United States of America wants you to tell me exactly what happened in Lawrence, in your own words.” He glared at John. “It’s a matter of national security. You know those experiments have caused our streets to be infected with freaks, right? You were involved in that. This is your opportunity to put some things right. It’s your duty.”_

_Duty. John sighed. There’d been a time when his duty had seemed clear, before the ‘Nam, before genetic experiments. Now? He was an old man. It was a long time since he’d thought of duty, or of anything much past the neck of a whiskey bottle. He straightened his shoulders imperceptibly. Took himself back to Lawrence and a life that could have, should have, been his._

_He told White about coming home, living on a knife edge of relief and pain as he tried to put the shattered remains of his life back together, make sense of it in the brightly colored reality of small town life. The job had helped, oil and machinery easing him back into an existence where there were no machine guns, no napalm. Mary had helped more. He’d glimpsed the bright soul beneath the soft blonde curls, behind the beautiful eyes. He’d wanted her. Not just in a lustful, one night stand kind of way, but in the whole marriage, home and kids way. For a while, everything had been almost perfect. He’d begun to heal, given up the whiskey and learned how to hope again._

_Then he’d walked past the house in Lawrence, the house he’d hoped to buy for his Mary, and everything had gone wrong._

_White pushed another glass of whiskey across the table, letting him take his time._

_“It was a fine little house, y’know? I used to walk by on the way home from work and think one day it was gonna be mine. Then the ‘for sale’ sign appeared and I’d already bought the ring and I was gonna ask her to be my wife.” John’s brows lowered, the hidden muscle along his jaw causing the white streaked beard to shift._

_“It was hot that day. I stopped under the tree…” John closed his eyes and could almost feel the warm trunk against his shoulder, through the thin material of his t-shirt. “I made up my mind, there and then, I was gonna ask her that night. So I walked up to the door, raised my hand to knock. I was gonna see if we could come around and see the place the next day… if she said ‘yes’.”_

_He smiled ruefully at his confidence that the answer would’ve been ‘yes’. He knocked back the shot of whiskey, running his tongue over his lips, missing the drop of spirit gleaming in his moustache._

_“Next thing, it was dark, night. I was on my ass on the ground and there was fire pouring outta the bedroom window. Some little kid came running out the front door, right past me; he had a baby in his arms, was looking up at the window, all scared. I could hear someone yelling inside, so I ran in and up the stairs. There was a man in the nursery, staring up at a great ball of flame pouring out of the ceiling. Didn’t look like he was gonna move any time soon. Then the flame, it roared at us…”_

_John wiped at the sweat greasing his forehead and shuddered, his eyes wide but the focus far away as he saw again the hungry gout of fire coming towards them. “It **roared** , like it was alive, like it was comin’ for us. The guy collapsed. I grabbed him, dragged him down the stairs and outta the door and he took off running for the kids. I got a good look at him… and it was like lookin’ in a mirror. And I thought, ‘Is that me? Are those **my** boys?” Then I tripped, fell backwards… and I’m lying in the sunlight on the path with the house owner asking me if I was okay.”_

_John picked up the whiskey bottle, took down a couple of big swallows, not bothering with his glass._

_Nothing had ever been the same again. By time Mary had found him lying in the alley beside the bar, he'd drunk enough to sink a battleship and was still sober. He’d seen the disappointment flare in her eyes and whiten her cheeks. Next morning he’d taken his pounding head and blistered hands and gone North. Whatever was wrong with him, he wasn’t going to let it affect his Mary’s life._

_._

Sam was too slow to warn Dean that the bathroom was occupied. He put his slow reflexes down to the headache that’d worked its way into his temples since the conversation with Alec that morning.

So Dean slammed the door open with his usual haste and was half way through unzipping his flies when he realised Alec was sprawled in the bath.

Alec raised an eyebrow at him, completely unabashed. After all he’d lived the majority of his life in a dormitory or barrack room, with communal showers. It definitely wasn’t the first time he’d been seen naked by a unit member, not that he had anything to be ashamed of anyway.

“Dude!” Dean said in protest.

“You walked in. I was already here.” Alec pointed out mildly, curling his eyebrow a little. “Possession is nine tenths of the law.”

“But DUDE!”

“It’s not like you don’t see it every day.” Alec smirked, amused at Dean’s unexpected discomfort.

Dean was about to point out that living in small spaces called for unspoken rules, one of them being that you never walked in on your brother when he was naked. That thought muddled his tongue and he was still trying to get his head around the fact that he’d just thought of Alec as his brother, when he realised that, naked or not, he could see very little of Alec.

“Dude!”

“What!” Alec frowned a little. “As conversations go, this is gettin’ kinda old. You want to move it along past the ‘dude’ comments?”

Dean sniggered, waving his hand at the sea of foam obscuring the transgenic.

“Bubbles? You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me! You’re more of a princess than Samantha here!”

Alec scowled, annoyed. The bubbles were nice, all soft on his skin and the water was hot and it was a _bath._ A bath clean enough to sit in with _hot_ water. And bubbles. Distracted, he swatted lazily at a few stray ones with his hand, feeling a little thrill he couldn’t quite understand as they skittered away along the rim of the bathtub. He flicked at them again, faster, almost wanting to chase them.

“Alec! You’re sitting in bubbles!”

Alec ignored him. Clearly Dean was just trying to be irritating. He took a couple of deep breaths and slipped beneath the foamy water. Manticore had left him wary of unexpected submersion in water, but if he put his mind to it, he could hold his breath for a long time. Hopefully by the time he came up for air, Dean would be gone.

“Sam! Alec is havin’ a _bubble bath!”_

“Yes, Dean. A bubble bath.” Sam sounded bored and mildly pissed. “That’s what regular people do with bubble bath liquid.”

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically.  Sometimes Sam just didn’t get it. He hoped Alec would come up for air soon, because even though he knew the X5 had awesome breath holding capabilities, it was still worrying. It was really worrying.

Dean stepped forwards, itching to poke the transgenic in the ribs and make him emerge, preferably before Dean lost control and risked a punch by dragging him out, just in case he’d drowned. All thoughts of drowning disappeared the moment he caught sight of the flash of yellow by one of Alec’s toes. He swooped, snatching up the bright piece of plastic.

Alec shot up to a sitting position, bubbles and water streaming out over the edge of the tub.

“That’s mine!”

Dean grinned, waggling his eyebrows as he waved the duck just out of reach.

“Dude!”

“Don’t start that again. Did anyone ever tell you your conversational skills are seriously lame?”

“You’re _playing_ with a rubber duck!”

“It fell in.” Alec looked at the duck hopefully. It stared back with one painted eye, foam dripping from the black eyepatch. He snatched it back as Dean waved it under his nose.

“You want toys… I can introduce you to this chick in Illinois?” Dean smirked, mischief glinting in his eyes.

Alec turned the yellow plastic over in his wet fingers, his face flushing with embarrassment at the teasing tone in Dean’s voice. He launched the duck casually at the trash can. It hit the metal with a dull clang.

“You think the toys you had as a kid were awesome? She’ll make you see toys in a _whole_ new light.”

Alec looked at him, his face expressionless beneath a crown of wet hair and foam.

The door was almost shut when Dean glanced back. Alec didn’t look like a super soldier, or like a pissed off younger brother… or whatever. He looked like a little kid in a rocking sea of foam, all big eyes under dripping wet hair. Big hurt eyes. Because _of course_ Alec had never been given toys as a kid. Because Alec was never allowed to _be_ a kid.

“Way to go, Dean.” Sam’s voice was sour as he flipped open the laptop. “Probably the first toy he’s ever had.”

“Crap.” It wasn’t funny now. “That’s just… sonofabitch, I freakin’ hate those bastards!”


	19. Chapter 19

_Ames White pursed his lips, sucking at his teeth._

_“So, let me get this straight. Some scientist picked you up… and I mean literally picked you up, outside a bar in Gillette? Now why’d he be interested in a drunken hobo.”_

_“I wasn’t a hobo.” John’s voice deepened to a growl._

_“You were homeless, drunk. What’s the difference?” Ames curled his lip in a sneer. “Whatever… he was interested in your drunken ranting, thought there might be something in it.”_

_John nodded, still amazed at the generosity of the stranger who’d pulled him up from the floor and offered him a decent wage and accommodation in exchange for discretion, loyalty and a full analysis of John’s little ‘episode’. He’d never understood what part of his drunken ramblings had convinced a near genius that there was some truth in the story._

_“I worked for Project Manticore before it even had a name. The guy who took me in, Budson, he dealt with Sandeman, but I only saw Sandeman once or twice. The lab back then was operating out of some industrial units near Gillette.”_

_“Go on.” Ames tapped his fingers impatiently on the table top. This he knew already._

_“I was security. They took it all pretty seriously. Genetic manipulation was big business, not the type of business you wanted spread all over the newspapers. Budson was working on the cloning experiments but he was kinda obsessed with my story; he wrote it all up in some file.”_

_John eyed the folder on the table, wondering how much the agent already knew._

_“Sandeman wanted Budson to take some of my DNA, but Budson said it was too soon to use it; he said they needed to understand more about what’d happened to me before they started mixing it in some genetic cocktail. They did take some in the end but, far as I know, it was never used. I guess it was destroyed, when the DNA lab was burned.”_

_John paused. His knowledge of the workings of the scientific side of the laboratory was vague. Ames seemed to read his mind._

_“I know about Manticore and their freak factory.” He tapped the file with a squared off fingernail. “Your little trip, somehow you convinced Budson it was for real. Budson was no fool… no way would he believe something without proper analysis, repeated experiments.”_

_John flinched. Those records should have been destroyed years ago._

_Ames grinned at him, merciless. “He sent you back. Didn’t he?”_

_John swallowed, reluctant. “Yeah.”_

_Budson had taken notes and written theories and talked it through with him, again and again. Then, like any scientist worth his salt, he’d wanted evidence. And John had been taken back to Lawrence, made to hang around near the house like some kind of stalker. After weeks, just as they were about to give up, it happened again. Without warning he’d been snatched away to find himself sitting on the grass of a neatly manicured lawn, watching the other John smiling and humming to himself as he polished a shiny beast of a ’67 Impala. He’d only been there for a few seconds. When he’d returned, he was sick, so sick he couldn’t even remember being taken back to Gillette. Budson hadn’t repeated the experiment, but he’d kept John close and John had been under no illusion that it would all be forgotten._

_Ames nodded. “Budson writes here that the experiment was a success, that you’d been drawn to the other John like metal to a magnet and then pulled back to yourself, arriving almost at the time of your departure. He states it wasn’t the right time to pursue it. Too much was happening on the genetic manipulation front. So he kept you on, as security, and to keep an eye on you.”_

_Ames pulled a photograph out of his file and slapped it on the table in front of John, raising an eyebrow._

_The young boy in the picture was easily recognisable. “That’s the kid that came to the lab with the other John; he called him Dean.”_

_“You’d seen Dean before, right?”_

_“Yeah.” John’s voice was quiet. “He was the little kid, with the baby, on the night of the fire.”_

_“How can you be sure? You only saw him for a minute.”_

_“I’m sure. I recognised his eyes.” John’s voice was harsh. Mary’s eyes._

_Ames nodded, dropping a second photograph beside the first. John peered at it in surprise._

_“How’d you get that? That’s the kid, Dean, when he was really small, like on the night of the fire!”_

_“No,” said Ames. “That’s X5-494. They’re both X5-494. Dean’s clone. A genetically manipulated freak.” A third photo floated down to the table top. A young man stared at John through the bars of a cage. Even behind bars he looked somehow dangerous, feral._

_“X5-494, or Alec as he likes to call himself. A major security risk to this government and a major pain in my ass.”_

_John swore, quietly, viciously. Budson had lied to him; he’d assured him he hadn’t taken any of Dean’s DNA. Finding his double and the kid bedded down in the laboratory, with Budson hovering over Dean with his sample kit, had been the final straw for John. Already disillusioned with the whole cloning situation, he’d helped his double and his son escape, seen them disappear back to their own world and then left Manticore for good himself. There’d been no fear of him opening his mouth, not with Budson holding Mary’s life over him as a threat._

_._

 

"Sam, quit worrying will ya, course I’m gonna be able to handle a werewolf! When do we get to go kill this thing? It’s ‘bout time you let me in on this hunting business, I’m going stir-crazy shut up in here." Alec was restless with suppressed energy, his mouth running at full speed until Sam’s head hurt.

Sam chose his words carefully, speaking with patience. “I’d feel happier if you started on something simple, y’know, a salt’n’burn or something like that.”

Alec eyebrows expressed his disbelief. Even after a few weeks with the Winchesters, he still found it unsettling that someone felt they actually had to look after him.

“Now, far as I recall, I started at the top of the supernatural food pyramid with that demon!”

He slouched dramatically across the nearest bed, causing some pages from one of Sam’s piles of research to flutter off onto the floor. “Now here’s the thing, _Sammy,_ I’m bored… and you’re not gonna like me when I’m bored.” He smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Research was not to Alec’s taste, not even research on a campus full of girls that Dean had officially designated ‘hot chicks’.

Dean grinned at him, caught between his own steadily building adrenaline and a need to urge caution, a need clearly echoed by his brother, if Sam's facial expression was anything to go by.

"The lunar cycle is right. If this thing sticks to the same pattern as the last few months, by tomorrow morning, if we don’t do somethin’, someone is gonna be missing a heart." Dean paused, looking at Alec, deliberately meeting his gaze. "You follow our lead, dude. These are slippery, dog-faced sonsabitches."

Alec shrugged, grinning lazily. "Me, canines... Natural adversaries, man. Superior DNA is always gonna come out on top."

Sam frowned. "I thought Joshua was part dog?"

The grin slipped on Alec's face. "Joshua... Yeah he's part dog. That's different." He rolled onto his feet and turned away, pretending to inspect the blade of the silver knife in his hand. He suddenly missed the big transgenic with a fierce ache that took him by surprise.

Dean read the movement accurately and turned the conversation back to the hunt, responding easily to Alec’s technical questions, all three of them fully aware that the conversation was now just a cover.

There was no doubt that Alec was worried about his home. In Dean’s opinion there was even less doubt that Bobby would eventually find a way for him to return. Once the hunt was done, they’d be heading back to South Dakota and this was forcing Dean into an uncomfortable position, one where he had to examine his own feelings about Alec's possibly imminent decision to go or stay. Analysing his own feelings wasn’t his strong point; he wasn't sure he was up to losing someone else, especially someone he was starting to bond with as another brother figure. He shuffled weapons around uneasily, still unsure how Alec had worked his way through the defensive barriers and assumed the position of a family member.

After a while an expectant silence made Dean aware that he'd lost the thread of the conversation. He raised his head, struggling to rein in his thoughts and noticed immediately that Sam was looking pale and sweaty and kneading at his forehead.

“Sam? You okay there dude?”

Sam muttered something incomprehensible, working his fingers into his thatch of brown hair with jerky, desperate movements.

“Crap!” Dean dropped the weapons’ bag onto the floor and rushed forwards in time to catch his brother by the shoulders as he crumpled. Alec was at his side immediately, helping him to support Sam’s weight as they lowered him to the floor.

“Vision,” Dean explained tersely, remembering that Alec was seizing and barely conscious on the last occasion Sam suffered a vision.

Alec screwed up his face. “Looks painful. I’d always kinda associated visions of the future with crystal balls and mysterious looking hot females wearing lace and velvet.”

Sam whined, clutching at his head. Dean pulled him into a loose hug.

“It’s okay, Sammy, I gotcha.” He cupped a hand tenderly around the back of Sam’s skull, supporting his brother’s weight against his chest.

“That sucks.” Alec grimaced sympathetically. “There’s nothing you can do?”

“Just gotta wait it out.”

Alec scooted sideways, out of reach of the slide of Sam’s large sneakers across the floor as he bent forwards into Dean’s shoulder.

“Hey buddy… come on, that’s it, easy there...” Dean soothed, his voice a low rumble as he hugged Sam close.

Alec watched them, comprehension dawning on his face as the usual smokescreen of banter and disagreements faded away. The trust between the Winchesters, their reliance on each other, was suddenly nakedly obvious. Alec swallowed, chewing at his bottom lip. He felt lonely, surplus. ‘ _Of course_ ,’ he thought, with a sudden twinge of bitterness. _‘I am surplus, an over-priced, worthless, failed experiment with no place in my own world or anywhere else.’_

The surge of bitterness was swept away as Sam groaned. Alec felt a rush of guilt; he shouldn’t have been feeling sorry for himself, not now.

Sam’s face twisted as he tried to sit up, Dean’s voice gradually pulling him back from the vision.

“That’s it. C’mon. You with me now?” Dean put his hand on his brother’s cheek, patting it gently as Sam opened his eyes and slowly untwisted his fingers from his hair, eyes focussing blearily.

“Dean, are you okay?” His tone sharpened. “Alec! Is Alec here?” Sam’s head swivelled frantically until his eyes found the transgenic; he let out a huff of breath, clearly relieved.

“We’re all okay dude. Calm down. Take a minute.” Dean’s anxious eyes met and mirrored Alec’s. “We’re fine.”

Sam sat up carefully, knees shaking with reaction as he pulled them up to his chest and leaned back against the wall.

Alec’s heart thumped. Was Sam about to give him more bad news about his fellow transgenics?

“We’ve gotta be careful on this hunt.” Sam cleared his throat, swiped at his sweat greased forehead. “Something bad is out there… and it’s coming after Alec.”

“What kinda bad?” Alec stared at him, intent.

“I dunno. Just… bad. I didn’t see it. Just a shadow against a wall, a knife, blood. You’ve got to be careful man.”

“Hey, I’m always careful.” The corner of Alec’s mouth turned up, easy good humor sliding across his features but pooling far too slowly in his green eyes. “It’s just a vision, right? So we get to change it.”

.

_The sun was beginning to settle lower in the sky. John licked his dry lips, eyeing the mean lines set into the face opposite him._

_“What do you want, of me?”_

_Ames gave him that little humorless smile again._

_“You’re smart John. Work it out for yourself.”_

_“You want me to find this clone for you?”"_

_“I have all the resources of the government, and more, behind me. I can’t find 494. What makes you think you can? I want this freak dead.” Ames snarled the words. “I want him to be wiped off the face of the earth… never to have existed!”_

_John’s heart thumped, his pulse picking up pace._

_“You want me to go back.”_

_“You say that like you have a choice, Winchester. You are going back. And you’re gonna kill that kid.”_

_John rose to his feet. “No!” He gestured desperately with his hand. “I can’t control it anyway, I’d never find him.”_

_Ames slammed his hands on the table. “This Dean kid, if he dies before his DNA is taken, 494 doesn’t ever get to exist.”_

_“Why? Why do you hate him that much?”_

_“He double-crossed me. That’s enough.” Ames couldn’t explain to this man the deep gut feeling he had that X5-494 was just clever enough to be dangerous to the Familiars. He just knew he wanted him dead, even more than 452._

_John shoved his way out of the door, stumbled down the steps, throwing his head back in the golden glow of the setting sun._

_“I’d never find him.” It was an empty protest and they both knew it._

_Ames grabbed his upper arm, squeezing hard fingers into his biceps as he forced him to the wooden picnic table. “Here…” He threw a handful of photographs onto the wooden surface. “Doesn’t matter when it is, so long as it’s before the DNA is taken.”_

_John focussed slowly. The photos were all of the same kid at every age from baby to around eight years of age. Alec. A military kid clad in fatigues, short buzz cut hair, blank, tight expression and empty eyes._

_“That’s his clone, Winchester. They look the goddamn same. Now you’re gonna go back to wherever the hell it is this Dean kid comes from, and you’re gonna kill him. You get that!”_

_John stared at the pictures, at the one of the caged older X5-494. Alec. After he’d escaped from the hell that Manticore had become. An Alec with longer hair, street clothes… life and arrogance in Mary’s eyes. Of course, he’d figured it out years before. In that world John had married his Mary… this Dean kid was their son, could so easily have been his son. And that John had let his son run out into the yard with a baby, while he stood and screamed at a ball of fire. Only one thing would have kept John in that building while his kids were outside… Mary._

_John looked back at the sunset. The light lit the deep brown of his eyes, setting free the green flecks._

_“No.”_

_“You don’t have a choice here, Winchester. This is an order.”_

_John pulled back his shoulders. “Yeah, I am a Winchester.” He turned to glare at Ames, brows pulling down. “That’s the only thing you got right tonite, you arrogant, pumped up little asshole. There’s no fucking way I’m gonna go kill a kid that’s near as damn it my own blood. You can go screw yourself.”_

_Something ugly crossed Ames’ face._

_“You’re signing your own death warrant.”_

_“Bring it on, you piece of shit. I got nothin’ here to live for.”_

_Ames’ gun was levelled at him. John stood tall; it was too far and he was too old to take the bastard out, but there was no way on earth he was going to help him._

_“I hope he kills you… this Alec. Hell, I hope he tears you to pieces. He’s the nearest thing in this world I’m ever gonna have as a kid… and I tell you this, that boy, he’s got Winchester blood in him, and he’s gonna hunt you down.”_

_Ames didn’t change expression at all as he pulled the trigger. The bullet left a neat, round hole in the middle of John’s forehead. For a split second, Ames thought he wasn’t going to fall; his dark eyes still staring. Then a little trickle of blood crept over the purple edge of the hole and he dropped backwards, thudding into the dust._

_Ames holstered his gun as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. If you needed a job doing well, you had to do it yourself. He was going to find Alec, one way or another. If that involved trying to travel to another world, that wasn’t a bad thing, right?_

_He stepped past the dark huddle in the dusk, heading for his vehicle. The Familiars would realise how important he was to them if he could present them with a way of colonising other worlds. It was a big risk to take, but he was the right man for the job._

.

The ice dropped noisily out of the machine into Alec’s paper cup. He watched each piece intently, fascinated by this piece of machinery that gave _free_ ice. _Ice!_ These people didn’t realise what luxuries were all around them.

He straightened up, popping a nugget of ice into his mouth, savoring the sharp cold against his tongue before he crunched into it, enjoying the brief spike of feeling transmitted through his teeth. He ran a tongue over his bottom lip, smiling, turning it up to full wattage as he spotted the slightly pink-faced girl watching him from her room door.

“Ice,” he told her happily, striding casually past. She stared after him, mouth slightly open.

Alec’s hand was already raised to tap the room door when he heard the voices. He let his hand drop, moved silently to the side of the door and leaned casually against the wall, just a guy soaking up the rays of the setting sun and sucking on ice out of a cup if anyone was looking.

Dean’s voice. “I don’t get it, Sammy. Why don’t you want him on this hunt?”

“Because it’s dangerous, Dean. He doesn’t know what he’s doing…” There was a pause; Alec could almost see Sam waving off Dean’s unspoken protest. “Yeah I know; he’s a super soldier, I get it. But this is different. This isn’t a human being Dean, it’s a werewolf, a monster.”

“I think Alec can handle it.”

There was an edge to Sam’s tone. “You seem to have a lot of confidence in this kid we’ve known for a few weeks!”

“Yeah.” Dean sounded annoyed. “Yeah, I have confidence in him. And he’s not exactly a kid. Dammit Sam, he’s two years older than when you left for Stanford.”

“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it, Dean. Me leaving, having my own life.”

“How in hell has that got anything to do with this?” Dean sounded astonished. “Alec is here, on this hunt, ‘cause he’s a trained soldier. He’s got abilities Sam. There’s no other reason.”

“You trust him to have your back. That’s my place Dean! I’ve been away for a while, but I’m here now… And there’s something coming after him; I saw it!”

Silence. Then Dean’s voice, higher than the normal baritone. “You’re jealous!”

“What! No!” Sam mumbled something even Alec’s enhanced hearing couldn’t catch.

“You’re my little brother, Sammy. Nothin’ is ever gonna change that.” Dean’s voice deepened, almost a growl. “I like havin’ Alec around; he’s easy to get along with. He thinks the same way I do and yeah, you’re right, he doesn’t keep fightin’ with me over every little thing. But don’t you ever think that I’m gonna replace you with someone else. There is no-one, no-one _ever_ gonna take your place.”

Alec straightened as Dean slammed his way out of the room. Dean stopped abruptly, his mouth opening slightly, face clearly showing his regret that Alec had heard the conversation.

Alec’s face was frozen. He looked down, eyes focussing on the worn, brown leather of Dean’s cuff. He swallowed against the slow, sick slide in his guts. Of course Sam didn’t want him around, trying to take his place. Of course Dean only liked him because he was easy to get along with, when he wanted to be. Every minute he spent here, he screwed things up for the people who’d been so good to him. It was time to go. Soon as this hunt was done, soon as Bobby found a way.

Alec flicked his eyes up to meet Dean’s, never knowing how much he revealed in that instant when his dark lashes lifted to reveal the startling green of his eyes. He raised his chin in a small upwards nod of acknowledgement, forced the lazy little smile to lift one side of his mouth.

“Siblings, huh?” He spoke easily. “Kinda glad I missed out on that deal.”

He dropped his shoulder and swerved casually past Dean, not missing the sharp sideways glance and the ripple of muscle in his double’s cheek as Dean ground his teeth.

Alec dropped the cup of ice on the table. “Ice,” he said unnecessarily. “I’m, er I’m gonna take a shower before we head out.”

The bathroom door was really the only barrier that gave any privacy. Alec set the shower running and peeled off his clothes, folding them neatly on the little stool. He glowered at himself in the mirror, turned his head, peering sideways at the edge of his barcode.

“Stop,” he told himself. “You’re a manufactured freak. A machine. Made to kill people. Not ever made to be part of someone’s family.”

He stood there until the steam from the shower obscured his reflection behind a veil of mist. Then he stepped deliberately into the shower and let the water stream over his head. It dripped from the ends of his hair, running into his eyes and down his face until even a lost transgenic couldn’t tell if he was crying or not.


	20. Chapter 20

“Hidin’ in plain sight, that’s what it is, Sammy.”

“I’d just feel better if you wore a hat, Dean.”

“No.” Dean slammed the trunk lid, effectively ending the discussion.

Alec watched them with amusement as he flicked up his own hood. It didn’t bother him to wear a hoodie, hide himself. Even in this world where transgenics were unknown, old habits made him feel safer when his barcode was covered.

Based on the attacks during the last few months, the werewolf’s hunting grounds extended into the campus, where there were far too many surveillance cameras for comfort, especially when you already had a police record. They’d already mapped out where the cameras were located, but in the heat of the chase the last thing they wanted to do was blunder in front of a camera just as they were making a kill.

Sam huffed, frustrated at his brother’s stubborn attitude. Dean glared at him.

“Whoa, hey…” Alec slipped easily between them. “I hate to break it to you, Sam, but we’re gonna blow it if some student sees the three of us looming up in hoodies. We’re gonna look kinda suspicious; it’s not like it’s cold weather or anythin’.”

Sam still felt uncomfortable, but he could see the logic in the argument.

“I guess,” he admitted, reluctantly, shaking his bangs forwards a little over his face. “Just watch out for those cameras, okay?”

“Sure, dude.” Dean patted his arm and they set off, moving smoothly through the grounds, staying in plain view but away from the illuminated circles cast by the lamps bordering the walkways.

“Moon is up.” Dean noted tersely as he scanned the shadowed lawn areas. There weren’t many students about; a combination of exam week and an unknown assailant stalking the campus area was keeping most people indoors.

They’d already walked around the majority of the campus when Alec cocked his head as his enhanced hearing picked up the sound of someone running through the woodland bordering the university grounds. Jogging, he decided, as the rhythmic gait and breathing came closer. A female, light, breathing a little hard on the incline back up towards the campus.

They sauntered onwards, casual, unhurried, giving the appearance of students heading out for a drink or to a study group.

The girl’s pace faltered, picked up a little, her breathing quicker now. Alec stopped, staring in the direction of the trees. The Winchesters were at his side immediately. He snatched down his hood, tilting an ear in the direction of the woods.

Definitely running faster now, a high note of panic in the breaths. And behind her… closing fast, heavier footsteps.

“It’s here!”

Even as the words left his lips, Alec caught its scent in the breeze. A strong, musky, canine smell, stronger than a dog. He hated it. Immediately. Instinctively. The hair on his scalp lifted as he let out an involuntary growl and blurred towards the chase; the Winchesters sprinted after him.

Alec was moving at full speed as he closed on the girl from the side. He leapt out behind her, directly into the path of the werewolf. It slammed into him with a surprised yelp and they crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs. The girl shrieked and tore away up the path, cannoning straight into Sam’s chest. He caught her, dodging her flying fists, as Dean raced past him and leapt into the fray.

“Hey, ow! Stoppit. It’s okay, we’re here to help. Wow! That… ow!”

He held her at arms’ length, astonished that something so small could deliver such sharp blows. She wailed miserably, not sure where to look first and lashed out at him with her foot. Sam side-stepped, wishing he could push her away and get to the twisting, snapping mass on the floor behind her.

“Stop! Now!” There was an echo of his father’s marine sergeant tone in his voice. The girl stopped, shocked, began to sob.

“Hey,” Sam soothed. “I’m sorry. It’s gonna be okay, really.”

“Don’t hurt me!” She sniffed, focussing suddenly on his earnest eyes and floppy hair. “That thing is after me! What even is it!”

Dean was ejected out of the tangle of fangs and claws and Alec. He rolled smoothly to his feet.

“Get her out of here, Sammy.” Dean planted a hand on his shoulder, gave it a little shake. “Get her inside.”

Sam’s protest was cut off by an unearthly howl coming from the woods to their right. He grabbed the girl’s arm and took off at full speed in the direction of the campus buildings, dragging her along with him.

“Alec!” Dean roared. “Get outta there!”

The transgenic flipped over, coming up on top of the werewolf. He lashed out, the crack of breaking bone clear in the night air, then rolled clear.

Dean fired immediately, sending a silver round into the dark shape rising from the floor. It yelped, staggered and raked out a claw in Alec’s direction. He blurred backwards, the claw missing by a hair’s breadth as it passed under his nose. A second round to the head put it down and it sprawled into the bushes on the side of the path.

“There’s another one!”

There was a sound of something heavy coming through the undergrowth. Alec hissed, rubbing blood away from a gash over his eye.

“More’n one.”

“Sonofabitch! It’s a friggin’ pack.”

“I can hear four.”

And with that, they were upon them.

The first broke cover at speed and hit Dean from the side, sending the gun flying across the path with the force of the impact. It hooked him on its claws and swung him into the undergrowth.

Alec had no time to intervene as a second, with blond hair, came out of the bushes at knee height, sending him sprawling. He rolled instinctively and came up on his feet, knife in hand as a third set claws into his shoulder from the rear.

There was a shriek from the undergrowth; Dean staggered out, the blade of his silver knife bloody. He was faced immediately by the last member of the pack who had just emerged from the trees.

“Down Dean!” Sam’s voice behind him, winded. Dean dropped and Sam fired several rounds over his head into its chest. It fell, almost in slow motion, looking oddly surprised.

Alec was dragged off into the trees, leaving his silver knife protruding from the chest of the blond haired one.

“Shit! One got Alec!”

They rushed forwards, fighting their way through the branches as the crashing noises receded into the distance. There was a startled grunt, a fierce shout and then silence. They pushed past a screen of bushes and were brought up short by a fallen tree trunk. On the other side, Alec and the werewolf were crouched, facing each other across a small clearing. It didn’t look as though Alec had a weapon.

“Dammit Alec, move, I can’t get a clear shot!”

But Alec was already moving, blurring towards the advancing werewolf. They met with a resounding crack and Alec seemed to flip upwards into the air, landing on his feet behind the werewolf. He spun around, fast and light as a breath of air; there was a snarl as he leapt onto its back, a moment’s fierce struggle and they fell. Alec twisted away quickly, blood spraying up into the air as the severed torso rolled across the clearing. He came up into a crouch immediately, his green eyes slits and a feral expression on his grinning face. He focussed suddenly on the brothers, drew in a sharp breath and rose easily, wiping the blood from his face with his cuff.

“Alec?” Sam could hear the shake in his own voice.

Alec flexed his shoulders and dropped his chin, visibly pulling himself under control as the killer was swiftly hidden beneath an anxious youthful veneer.

 

Ever practical, Sam cut the weirdness short. This wasn’t the time. They had five bodies to move and a hysterical female no doubt already calling the police.

“We’ll drag the bodies to the side road?”

“Yeah.” Dean was already moving. “I’ll bring the Impala round. We’ll bundle ‘em in a tarp and burn ‘em away from here.”

.

_Ames White was disappointed. John Winchester had seemed like the answer to a lot of his problems. Now the stubborn old fool was dead. But Ames wasn’t a person who gave up easily and he was a methodical man. He set out his choices._

  * _Assume Alec was gone. If he returned then Ames would kill him. If he didn’t, well…no loss._


  * _Attempt to jump himself. IF it was possible, would he jump to his own double?_



_It had occurred to him that maybe only Winchesters could jump… something genetic, some fault or ability. He’d driven away from John’s body and returned a few minutes later, on a whim. He was now in possession of a cloth bag containing locks of John’s grizzled hair and beard and a few nail clippings. If it was genetic… maybe, just maybe they would help._

  * _If it was the contents of the cloth bag that caused him to jump, would he go to John’s double? If that was the case hopefully it would be at a time when he could kill Dean and stop the whole DNA collection. It should be easy enough to return home. He knew John Winchester had lived in his trailer for a few years so he’d just go to that location in the other world._


  * _If he jumped to his own double, surely he could recruit his help, one way or another. Then find and kill Alec, or Dean, or both of them._



_Ames sighed, it was a big risk but held the possibility of vast reward. The removal of one Alec X5-494 would be pleasing; the discovery of a new safe haven for the Familiars would be spectacular and would prove his worth to them more than anything else ever could._

_His mind made up, Ames set out for a small town in the mid-west, a town where he had spent a considerable amount of time in the past; one where he could easily remember the places he used to hang out._

_._

Sam was angry. The more he thought about it, the more furious he became, although he’d made no attempt as yet to analyse why that was the case.

He dragged his fingers through his smoke-scented hair, voice rising easily over the sound of water splashing around as Dean showered.

“I get it, you’re a multi-million dollar genetically enhanced soldier. You kill things; that’s what you do, what you were trained to do!”

Alec winced, ashamed and embarrassed about his feral reaction to the werewolf.

“It doesn’t make you invincible! You could’ve been KILLED, Alec!”

Alec peered at him, confused.

Sam took a few paces, ran out of space and spun on his heel. “First you take off, don’t even wait for us. You ran straight at it!”

Alec frowned, defensive. “It was right behind her, man. There was no choice.”

Sam wasn’t stopping any time soon.

“Then, then you go at one without a weapon! I was right there, I could’ve shot it! What the hell d’you think you were doing?!”

“I took it out. I didn’t flunk it! That’s what you wanted, didn’t you?” There was a distinct pout to Alec’s bottom lip, reminding Sam eerily of a younger Dean.

“We wanted it dead, yes. We didn’t want YOU dead!”

“I’m NOT dead! Look!” Alec waved a hand at himself vigorously. “Here, look, alive! Handsome as ever!”

“This is Dean’s fault.”

“What!”

“This is his ridiculous, super-hero idiocy.” Sam glowered, pointing a finger at Alec. “Just ‘cause you got the DNA, it doesn’t mean you have to adopt every crazy idea.”

“What are you even talking about!”

“Taking unnecessary risks, Alec. Why’d you have to take a stupid risk like that?”

“Oh for the love of… I had it all under control! There was a risk, sure, a calculated risk. I knew I could take out monster dog and I did. Job done.”

Sam grabbed his jacket. “I’m getting some air. Call me when the shower is free.”

He stormed out of the door as the shower turned off and Dean emerged, towelling his hair.

“What’d I miss?”

“Aw hell, just Sammy havin’ a hissy fit.”

Alec slapped Dean on the shoulder, deftly swiping the towel as he passed.

“You shoulda seen his face, dude. All screwed up; looked like a bulldog licking piss off a thistle.”

The shower turned on again. Dean raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to grin or take cover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “a bulldog licking piss off a thistle” … if ever there was a description of the bitchface, there it is! Many thanks to the unwitting acquaintance who let that little statement out in my hearing. It just had to be used!


	21. Chapter 21

**.**

When Sam returned, he had the large first-aid kit from the Impala tucked under his arm. He pushed the door shut with his knee and the room went suddenly quiet as the noise of traffic was diminished at the same moment as Alec turned off the shower.

Dean eyed the kit and Sam with equal amounts of distaste. His brother fired back a cool look of his own and set it down on the table. 

"I need to get a look at those scratches, dude."

"Alec first." Dean gestured at a damp-looking Alec, who'd just emerged from the bathroom. 

Sam opened his mouth to protest that Alec was able to fight off infection more easily than Dean, but shut it again when he caught sight of the angry curl of his brother's eyebrows.

"Alec first."  Dean reiterated. It was clearly not open to discussion. 

To Sam's surprise, the transgenic slipped off his shirt and sat down immediately.

“Whatever. Well, let's get this over with, huh?”

Sam ran a thumb over the newly washed, pink scar on Alec's forehead with an expression of amazement. Just two hours previously it’d been a jagged gash and the dried smears of blood had done a good job of concealing the speed with which it was healing.

“I heal quick.” Alec reminded him, with a cocky grin. “You might want to take a look at my shoulder though; I think wolf-boy left a claw in there. I don’t want it to heal over, it’s a bitch having to dig crap out later.”

He turned his black obligingly, giving the brothers a good view of the deep gashes that ran from the top of his shoulder and cut diagonally across his spine to the bottom of his rib-cage on the other side.

Dean hissed, leaning forwards for a better look.

“Why didn’t you say somethin’? These are nasty, dude.”

Alec shrugged, turning his face away from the Winchesters as pain rippled across his back.

“I’m okay. It’s healing. I told you, I heal quick.”

Sam unscrewed the cap on the bottle of holy water. “This might sting,” he warned, sloshing it liberally over the gashes. There was a hissing noise and steam boiled from the wounds. Alec flinched briefly and then his impassive mask slid back into place. Manticore didn’t encourage its soldiers to react to pain.

“Sorry man.” Sam dabbed at the area with some disinfectant. Alec might have great antibodies but there was no harm in being careful. He noted with surprise that where the edges of the wounds were shallow, they’d already begun to knit together; there was no sign of infection apart from one small area low on the shoulder blade. He prodded at it gently, able to feel something just beneath the surface.

“There is something in there... it’s healed over.”

“Yeah,” said Alec. “I felt it snap off. Cut it out.”

He felt Sam’s hesitancy. “Just cut it out, Sam. It’s only gonna get deeper if you leave it.”

“You want me to…?” Dean offered.

“I got it.” Sam steadied his hand and cut a neat slice under the small protusion, prising free a green/black curved claw. He held it out for Alec’s inspection. The transgenic eyed it with distaste and turned away.

“I’ll put some stitches in these…” Sam began.

“No. They’ll heal better if you fix a light dressing.”

Going against every rule he knew, Sam obliged and minutes later Alec was back on his feet, rotating his shoulder carefully under the white dressings.

“What about him?” He nodded in Dean’s direction and sniffed dramatically. “I can smell he’s leaking all over the place.”

Dean glowered at him as he gingerly pulled off his t-shirt to reveal a few claw marks of his own. Sam was in his face immediately with the holy water and a terse snap to his voice. “Really, Dean? How long was it gonna be before you mentioned these?”

His brother shot a death glare in Alec’s direction and batted at Sam’s antiseptic cream in a bad tempered way. “No mother-henning, Sam.”

.

_Within the space of seven hours, Ames had covered most of the small town on foot, loitering in and strolling through every public place and a few more that were most definitely not public._

_The majority of the places had changed very little since he’d lived in town; a little wear and tear and general fading the only indication that time had moved on. He didn’t fear recognition. Most of the residents seemed to move in a slow daze of hopelessness, but even so he kept his tinted glasses on his face and his official badge handy just in case questions needed to be discouraged._

_Frustration was starting to eat at him; he’d pretty much decided it was time to jack it in for the day and get some food and sleep when he recognised the small, boarded-up house on Jackson Road. He approached cautiously, surprised that something that’d been dilapidated when he lived in town was still standing at all. He’d spent a week there once, holed up away from prying eyes, doing a bit of soul-searching. A haven, temporary and long forgotten._

_Ames kicked in the door, the worm eaten frame splintering easily. He moved slowly into the musty air of the interior, pulling off his glasses and gazing around. Empty, apart from the scurry of rats and the flutter of birds in the rafters._

_On the back wall, dimly illuminated by the dying sun, Ames could see the faded remains of his name, daubed in a childish graffiti of multi-colored letters. He smiled, sardonic and regretful at the same time and reached out his hand to trace the purple ‘A’..._

_..._ When he finally stopped vomiting long enough to open his eyes, he found himself staring at a man huddled beneath the graffiti. Long, straggly hair and a dark matted beard obscured most of his face. Even as he drew back from the unwashed stench, Ames already knew.

 _“_ You’re a fucking mess, White!” He snapped, lurching to his feet and delivering a swift kick to the cowering figure.

_._

Sam was immersed in research, again. Alec wasn’t clear on the subject matter, but Sam looked too far too involved to interrupt. Dean was half-hidden behind the sheets of the local newspaper, as he scanned the pages for any news on the recent events on campus.

Bored, Alec jiggled his knee, shifted on the chair, casting his eyes around to find something of interest. There _was_ something of interest, right in front of his eyes; Dean’s stubble.

Alec leaned forwards, peering around the edge of the newspaper as he focussed on it with intensity, fascinated by the dark shadows and even patterns of growth that followed and accentuated the bones and hollows of cheeks and jawline.

After a few moments, Dean became aware of the burn of Alec’s gaze. He twitched, becoming uncomfortable and then rapidly annoyed. His lip and brow curled into irritated lines as Alec leaned further forwards, staring at the way the growth extended down his neck and then simply faded away.

“What?” Dean demanded tersely, his eyes green slits of annoyance.

Alec shot back in his chair, his eyes flying wide. He flushed. “Nothin’”.

“Nothin’? Even chicks don’t stare at me like that.” Dean firmed his lip. “There’s nothin’ here you can’t see staring in the mirror.”

Alec dropped his chin, the flush darkening. “Stubble,” he muttered, barely audible with embarrassment.

“Stubble?” Sam questioned, puzzled, torn from his research by the sharpness in Dean’s tone.

“Yeah…” Alec gestured awkwardly at his own face, his gaze now directed firmly at the table top.

The puzzlement on Sam’s face suddenly cleared as something fell into place. “You don’t shave.”

Alec shrugged. “Manticore thought it was a waste of time. They fixed it so we don’t need to.”

Visibly taken aback, Dean squinted at him. “What? You don’t shave, like ever, dude?”

“No.” Alec looked at them from under his lashes, dropped his eyes again and almost blurred to the door. “I’m gonna get some more ice.”

The brothers stared after him. Something dark began to grow in Sam’s gut, an implacable hatred against the monster that’d decided to produce an army of useful, replaceable soldiers. Soldiers who didn’t have the most basic of human rights, who’d never even have the freedom to choose whether or not to grow a beard.

.

The man wriggled, pulling at the bindings on his wrists. Ames jerked the cord around his neck with a vicious tug.

“Keep moving.”

“Don’t want to…” His filthy double was a whiner, Ames decided. A hopeless, dirty, lost excuse for a human being. He was embarrassed for him, embarrassed for himself. He jabbed his gun into the grime of the man’s jacket.

 _“_ Move faster. I can always shoot you here.”

It was an empty threat but White didn’t know. He quickened his pace, skinny knees shaking. The cold violence seeping out of the large man behind him was terrifying. Even more frightening was the way he looked vaguely familiar, giving White an odd feeling that he should’ve recognised him.

When they reached a quiet residential street, Ames broke quickly into a vehicle and threw White inside.

“Stay still.”

White stayed, shaking, as the man hot-wired the car and drove them away into the darkness. Maybe, just maybe, if he did what he was told, he would live to see another day.

Later, Ames pulled the car over behind some bushes. He turned to White, checking the handcuffs securing him to the car door.

“We’re going to sleep,” he said in a flat voice. “But first, you’re going to answer some questions.”

White nodded, so nervous he was sure Ames could see the pulse jumping in his throat.

“Right. Let’s start with the date…”

_._

By morning, Alec had slipped back into uncharacteristic silence, his brow furrowed as he sorted continuously through the jumping threads of the thoughts that’d kept him awake for most of the previous night.

They were heading back towards Bobby’s as soon as Sam finished paying for the gas; that meant hour upon hour with the three of them in the confined space of the Impala. He wasn’t sure how to behave. Yet again, he’d made it only too obvious that he was a freak. Not even a freak of nature, just an outright freak. What kind of man didn’t need to shave? For that matter, what kind of man ripped a werewolf apart with his bare hands? The answer was simple. He wasn’t a man. He was a monster. The same sort of monster that the brothers hunted on an almost daily basis.

Dean’s boots scuffed on the blacktop next to him. He slapped Alec on the shoulder, startling him out of his reverie.

“’M tired.”

Alec stared at him, bewildered by this unexpected statement.

Dean took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and dangled the car keys under Alec’s nose.

“You drive.”

He yanked open the passenger door with a howl of metal on metal. “One scratch…” His nostrils pinched in, lips firming. “Just one…”

Alec was still standing there with his mouth open when Sam came out of the gas station store. Only his superior reflexes enabled him to catch the bag of candy that hit him in the chest.

Sam grinned at him, ruffling his hair on the way into the back seat. He dropped a bag of M&Ms onto Dean’s lap and settled back with a livid green smoothie.

“C’mon Alec.” Dean’s gruff growl got him moving. He slid smoothly behind the wheel, eyes wide.

“You like candy, right?” Sam’s head appeared between them as he leaned over the bench seat.

Alec nodded, for once finding himself completely without speech. He put the candy on the seat beside him, slid the keys into the ignition and stared at the brothers.

Sam slapped the back of Dean’s head with a large hand, earning himself a scowl.

“How come he gets to drive? He’s the youngest!”

“’Cause, Sammy, he has superior genes. Don’t get any of that green shit on Baby’s seat.”

Sam huffed, grinning to himself as he settled back. He balanced the smoothie on his knee for a moment, dug around in his jacket pocket and pulled something out.

“Dean!”

Dean caught the object without missing a beat and slapped it down on the dashboard, flicking a tape into life with his other hand.

“Lucky charm,” he said easily, as he flipped open his dark glasses and settled them on his face.

Alec swallowed and blinked furiously as he pulled onto the highway. The yellow plastic duck on the dashboard regarded him with one shiny black eye. It seemed to be smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New fic - The first chapter of my new Spn fic 'The Aspen Spirit' has now been posted if you're interested in checking it out.
> 
> The yellow plastic duck wrote itself into this 'Seeing Double' fic in much the same way as two of them wandered into my life. One came from a motel in the mid-West, which gave them away to guests along with the complimentary shower gel, with the encouragement to email and let the staff know how far they’d travelled. I never got round to emailing, but the duck with the pirate’s eyepatch has come a long way! The second duck had one hell of an adventure. I saw it floating in the sea, almost at the point of sinking and for some reason just had to rescue it. Turned out it had floated, all alone, for five months, having escaped from a duck race on the River Liffey!


	22. Chapter 22

* * *

Ames pulled over as soon as they were clear of town.  He checked there was nothing coming from either direction and popped open the trunk to reveal the trussed figure of White, twisted around an odd assortment of junk. White glared at him balefully.

Ames hauled him upright and slashed the restraining cable ties. 

"Out."

White grimaced, massaging his wrists as he pulled the gag away. 

"What is your problem!"

His demeanour had changed considerably in the last twelve hours and he was becoming steadily less frightened and steadily more angry at his treatment. The interrogation the previous evening had been followed by hours tied up in the trunk, while Ames flexed the power of his official badge in the local Sheriff's office, taking a gamble that, in the early hours of the morning, a small town law enforcement officer was unlikely to question the bearer.  Ames' gamble had paid off and several hours with internet access had provided him with valuable information.

 Ames waited until White had clambered awkwardly out of the trunk and then thrust a plastic bottle of water and a wrapped sandwich at him.  White took them, keeping a suspicious scowl on his face. 

"You're going to help me."  Ames threw some prints onto the trunk lid.  "We find these guys, you get to go free." 

 White's gaze skipped over the photograph of Alec and the prints of Dean and Sam, then sharpened as he focussed on John Winchester.

"That bastard!" 

Ames was shocked, hiding it with difficulty.  "You know him?" 

"Yeah. The murdering bastard killed my parents!  We were hiding out with some bloodsuckers by Louisville and that son of a bitch killed 'em all." 

"You want revenge?" Ames smiled a little shark-like smile. 

"Yeah, I want revenge." White's answer was fervent. 

"You're too late; he’s dead." Ames watched the disappointment bloom, then smoothly offered new hope.  "These are his sons. I want them killed."

Spittle ran down White's chin.  He ignored it, his eyes filling with a savage hunger.

"You're going after his kin, I'm with you!" 

The shark-like smile broadened. "Perhaps we can make something of you after all."

Minutes later they were headed towards South Dakota, the last recorded location of one black Impala, apparently the Winchester boys' preferred form of transport. 

.

Bobby's revelation that he knew how to get Alec home had exploded like a rogue grenade into the boys' new found acceptance of each other.   For a while, Bobby had actually wondered whether he'd have been better to keep his mouth shut, but he was a fair man and sometimes being fair wasn't the easiest way, or even a route you wanted to take at all. Ultimately the decision had to be Alec's. 

The transgenic took the news stoically. There was a brief run of expressions across his face and then he shut down, a combination of Dean's DNA and Manticore's training creating a beautifully carved mask behind which his thoughts remained hidden from view.

Sam was visibly distressed, but uncharacteristically kept his mouth shut, for the time being at least. Bobby didn’t think it would last too long. 

After a moment of open dismay, Dean rapidly assembled flimsy walls and attempted desperately to hide behind them. His tortured glances from one younger man to the other told Bobby, loud and clear, that Dean wanted Alec to stay but also raised warning flags that he was worried about Sam... even more worried than usual. That was something Bobby fully intended to get to the bottom of, just as soon as the present crisis worked itself out one way or another. 

It turned out that Bobby wasn’t the only one who'd picked up on Dean's anxiety, although Alec was more direct. He caught Dean by himself in the yard and dived right in.

"What's up with Sam?"

"Nothin'."

"Now see here, that thing you do, it's kinda pointless with me, 'cause I know all your tricks already, being as you are me,  or I'm you, or somethin'."

Dean blinked, trapped.

"Can't tell ya."

"That can't, or won't?" 

"Both." Dean's jaw took on a stubborn jut.

"You want to elaborate on that?" 

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. 

"Nope." He shrugged, his mouth pulling up in a weary grimace. "I dunno if it's even true... It can't be true." His eyes turned slowly to Alec, terror in their depths. "But this thing Bobby's found out, maybe there's a way to alter everything."

And with that, Alec had to be content.

.

_Max took Joshua's large face between her hands. She ran her thumbs tenderly down his cheeks._

_"What's up Big Fella?"  Anyone who knew her would've been shocked at how gently she spoke._

_"Big Fella is seeing Medium Fella...in Big Fella's head."_

_"Is Alec okay?" Max asked, making efforts to keep her expression neutral._

_Joshua shook his head and Max's stomach lurched, annoying her; she still couldn't see why she even cared.  Joshua whimpered miserably, snot and saliva dripping onto Max's cuff. She curled her lip but kept her thumbs moving in soothing circles._

_"No, Alec is not okay. White is hurting him and the other White is hurting older Alec! There is too much blood."_

_The thought of Alec being hurt, really hurt, brought a sick feeling to Max's gut. Alec and a man with his face...hurt. The thought chilled her to the bone._

_Max eventually calmed Joshua down enough to leave him alone and she headed off to Logan's with anxiety making her heart hammer in her chest._ _There was nothing to say Joshua's visions were real, but the fact that her contacts had told her Ames White had disappeared from the scene a couple of days earlier wasn't doing anything to reassure her._

.

Alec felt like a leaf caught up in a spring flood, events rushing him forwards to places he'd never expected to be... places where there was family, support, where the nightmare that was Manticore had never existed. Somewhere ahead there was a division in the river and he would have to choose one fork or another. In one direction lay the Winchesters, Bobby, a life of hunting and unknown dangers.  In the other lay the transgenics, his other 'family' and the dark cloud that hung over all their futures.

The need to make a decision nagged at him,  bothered him enough that he'd already taken two full strides out of the liquor store in Sioux Falls before he realised he was being watched.

Alec stopped abruptly, his sole scraping on the sidewalk as he turned. There was no-one there. He waited, listening, shifting his grip on the whiskey bottle and beer, just in case he needed to drop them or use them or something. Still nothing, just the drift of his breath visible in the frigid air.

He walked quietly on to Bobby's old truck, every sense tuned into the flow of the evening. There was the click of a pebble. Alec spun towards it.  Some fifty yards away, a man shuffled his unlaced boots away from the store.  He didn't look in Alec’s direction, but hunched himself into his ragged coat as the wind bit at him. Nothing else was moving.

Alec drove off, putting it down to being stressed and on edge.  For everyone's sake, a decision needed to be made.


	23. Chapter 23

Ames bumped into Dean at the gas station, actually physically bumped into him as they met face to face in the doorway.

Ames nearly, _very_ nearly, went straight for a killing strike. If it hadn’t been for Dean’s quick, gruff apology, Ames would never have paused for the split second it took him to register the complete lack of recognition, the fractionally older face. Alec was good at keeping a poker face, but he wasn’t that good.

So Ames turned the movement of his hand into a swipe to catch a falling bag of potato chips and grinned a harmless apology and was past his target and outside without missing a beat. So simple, it would’ve been so simple, to just kill him there and then, but that may well leave Alec running and alert and past experience had taught Ames that a running and alert Alec was an impossible thing to catch. He’d come this far, waited this long; he could wait a little longer and take out Dean Winchester and his impertinent clone at the same time.

Dean felt the strength of the man as he brushed past him, finding himself fully wired for a fight without any apparent reason. He stared after the broad shoulders until they disappeared from view behind the gas pumps. He’d never seen the man before, but he didn’t like him; he really didn’t like him.

.

“He’s new around here.” Sam noted, jerking his head in the direction of the shapeless bundle of inhabited clothes propped up against the side of the store. “I wonder if Bobby knows anything about him.”

“Saw him a coupla days ago.” Alec frowned. “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about the guy I don’t like.” It was an understatement. The man, even at that distance, set Alec’s nerves thrumming and sent a shudder up his backbone. He was about to walk across to him when the raw growl of the Impala came into earshot behind them. By the time Alec had dropped into the back seat the man was out of sight, obscured by a vehicle that pulled up between them.

Dean seemed edgy and the Impala peeled away from the sidewalk at speed, the tires whimpering, causing Sam to raise an eyebrow.

“What’s up?”

“Dunno. Just somethin’ off about today.”

Still uneasy, feeling as though fingers were scraping up his spine, Alec looked over his shoulder through the back window of the Impala. His breath puffed out in shock. Ames White. Sitting in the vehicle by the store. The figure was hazy behind glass but, to Alec’s horrified eyes, unmistakeably Ames White.

“We gotta get outta here!” Alec slammed his hand onto the seat back between the Winchesters. “Go! Go!”

Dean didn’t wait to ask questions, booting the Impala forward. She responded, roaring up the highway.

“Shit! It’s White. He’s followed me. We gotta go!” Alec’s face was taut, shocked, his mind racing. This was his fault. Somehow White had followed him and now they were all in danger.

.

The thunder of the Impala hitting full revs bounced off the walls of the store as White climbed into the passenger seat of Ames’ car. He looked worried.

“Do y’think he saw us?”

“Yep.” Ames didn’t seem particularly bothered. He slapped White’s knee in a paternal manner. “Don’t worry yourself. They won’t be going far.” He waved a piece of unfamiliar electronic equipment under White’s nose and smirked. “And where they’re going, we’re following.”

.

“You lost him, Dean.” Sam craned his head out of the passenger window. There was no sign of any pursuit. There hadn’t been any sign of pursuit since they’d roared away from the store.

“Still doesn’t feel right, Sammy.”

“We’ve toured more of South Dakota today than we have in the last ten years.” Sam pointed out. “There’s no sign of him. He might not have even seen Alec.”

A tinny sound crackled through the air.

“Crap!” Sam lifted his cell to his ear. “Sorry, Bobby. Got kinda involved in the evasion there.”

“Bobby.” Dean raised his voice so he could be heard on the cell. “We’re gonna have to call by to fetch our gear.”

Alec made a noise of protest from behind him.

“Put me on speaker.” Bobby’s voice grumbled through the car. “There’s no point y’haulin’ ass all over the state. If y’can’t see him, you’ve thrown him off y’tail. Either that, or he’s too good to spot.”

“Ames White is dangerous.” Alec butted in. “It’s me he’s after. Let me out; he’s my problem to sort.”

“No.” Dean glared at him.

“You’re not in this alone, Alec.” Sam shot him a worried glance.

“Stop fightin’ y’idjits!”

“I don’t wanna lead White over there, Bobby. It’s not fair to get you…”

Bobby spoke over him. “I’ve been involved since the day John Winchester brought two little kids to m’house. You’re that worried, we’ll all pull out and head for the hills. How far out are ya?”

“Twenty five minutes, give or take a couple. But what about your place?”

“Good. That’ll give me time to get the dog over to Hank. My place? It’s a scrapyard y’asshat! There ain’t diddly squat here for anybody to mess with. The important stuff, it’s all locked away.”

“Bobby. Be careful. He’s not like a regular human.”

“I know. Y’told me. Now get your asses in gear.”

.

When they turned into the yard, Bobby’s truck was gone.

“Guess he’s taking the dog?” Sam’s tone was uneasy. They parked up behind a towering pile of scrap cars and got out cautiously, weapons drawn. There didn’t seem to be anyone about and the house was still locked.

About ten minutes later Bobby’s truck clattered its way into the yard and pulled up by the house. The door swung open and Bobby got out, his movements stiff and his hands in the air. Ames White stepped out behind him, the muzzle of his gun aimed at Bobby.

“Come out! Where I can see you! All three of you.” A confident smile played over his face.

“Sonofabitch! Is that White? I saw him in the gas station! _Knew_ there was somethin’ off about him.”

“Yeah, that’s Ames White.” Alec levelled his gun, aiming at the narrow gap between Bobby’s head and the edge of the truck door. “I can take him.”

“NO!” Dean held his wrist. “It’s too risky.”

“Sorry boys.” Bobby grimaced. “Got the drop on me. There’s t…” The butt of the gun slammed into the side of his head and he went down on one knee, blood blooming on his face.

“Shut it.” Bobby was dragged upright, the muzzle of the gun now under his chin. “Throw your weapons down now! That’s it. Kick ‘em over this way!”

“I’m gonna tear that asshole apart.” Dean snarled as he complied, tapping his weapon with the side of his boot and sending it sliding across the yard.

“You’re gonna have to get in line.” Alec was icily calm. He raised his voice. “This is a pleasant surprise. Not enough people to terrorise in your own world?”

“Ahh 494. I missed that mouth of yours. So this is your donor? And that must be his little brother.”

“What do you want, White?”

“Bit slow back home. Running out of freaks to torture. Thought I’d pay a call on my favorite transgenic.”

Alec curled his lip. “I told you before, I make it a point not to fraternize with automatons. You bore me.”

Ames White took two swift steps backwards, dragging a dazed Bobby with him as a living shield. He gestured to his right.

“Get in the workshop.”

“Can’t we just rush him?” Sam whispered.

“He’ll kill Bobby.” Alec’s voice was flat. There was no doubt in his tone.

“Can’t you like blur or somethin’?” Dean’s fists clenched as he shifted his weight edgily from foot to foot.

“He’s too fast. I gotta be closer.”

They entered the workshop slowly, their eyes adjusting to the dim light inside. There was a scuff behind them as Bobby and his captor followed.

“Turn around.”

“I don’t get it.” Alec narrowed his eyes. “I’m here. You’ve obviously made a big effort to find me. Why am I still alive?”

“Maybe I want to see you suffer.”

There was a blur behind them, a sickening crack of something hard meeting bone and Sam sprawled face-down onto the workshop floor.

At the same moment, Alec caught a whiff of scent in the light movement of air through the workshop door. It swept past Ames White and into his nostrils, bringing with it tiny molecules of someone who was Ames White but with an underlying odour of ill health, of something vaguely rancid.

Alec spun, too fast for the naked eye to follow, but it was too late, much too late. The blade of Ames’ razor sharp knife cut across his torso. The weapon parted his t-shirt and his flesh down as far as the white bone of his ribs. Within the space of a shocked blink the perfect slash filled with blood that flooded down, soaking the material over his belly.

The knife travelled on, its trajectory dipping towards Dean as he threw himself to the side. It missed its intended target of his gut and sliced into the top of his thigh.

Behind Alec there was a gasp of pain as White butt-stroked Bobby and the older hunter slid to the floor.

Alec, all consideration of his injury suspended, was already rolling across the floor. He came up beneath White’s jaw and wrenched the gun out of his hands. A steps backwards and with the muzzle already lined up, Alec pulled the trigger. White collapsed, a look of surprise on his face as the round took him between the eyes.

With a snarl of rage, Ames rushed out of the shadows. Alec turned, not fast enough to do more than try and deflect the slash of the knife. Ames tracked his evasive manoeuvre, a little off-balance, his shoe sliding onto a small dark stain on the workshop floor.

The air between them seemed to distort, similar to the illusion of a heat-wave and an immense pressure punched forwards past Alec, throwing him into the workshop wall. He struggled to retain his balance as the knife hit the floor with a sharp, metallic sound.

Ames was gone.

Bobby groaned as he pushed himself up on his elbows. Alec had already taken a step towards him when Dean’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Alec?” It sounded off somehow, weak.

There was a thud. Alec knew from the expression on Bobby’s face that it was bad, really bad. He spun on his heel, his heart leaping. Dean was sitting on his ass on the floor, desperately trying to hold in the spurts of bright, arterial blood coming from the slash in the top of his thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, at the end of this chapter, things are really bad. The boys are going to have to fight to survive, but I’m sure you’ll all be sending good vibes and hopefully medical supplies… and a paramedic or two wouldn’t go amiss.
> 
> Evave2 - I did my best. There's a dead White (DA) and the (SPN) Ames isn't having too good a time either. ; )
> 
> For Info - the 3rd chapter of The Aspen Spirit (SPN fic) has been posted, if you're interested : )


	24. Chapter 24

The pressure wave rocked Sam back into consciousness. He would have given anything to stay wrapped in dark oblivion because, when he opened his eyes, it was to a nightmare made real.

On his right hand side, Bobby staggered slowly onto his feet, his expression that of a man who has hardened himself to tragedy but, despite his best efforts, is still breaking into pieces.

Directly in front of him, Alec was down on his knees, his chest slashed open from one side to the other, the front of his t-shirt and jeans dark with blood.

And Dean. Dean was just sitting on his ass on the floor, his legs stuck out in front of him, staring wide-eyed at the blood pumping out of his own thigh as his hands fluttered, shaking, trying to stem the steady spurts of red.

Sam’s vision had come true.

The sight shocked Sam back to full awareness. His horrified eyes watched as Alec’s hands ripped apart the material of Dean’s sodden pants' leg.

“Let me see.”

There was a tremor in Alec’s voice, but his hands were steady as they moved along the blood slick skin, his fingers delving into the flesh of Dean's thigh in a way that turned Sam's gut.

Sam made it up onto his feet; his brain was sloshing around in his skull, reminding him that he’d just been knocked unconscious. Despite his urgent need to get across to Dean, he found himself straight back on one knee, retching helplessly as the room rolled slowly around his one point of focus... his brother’s hands, red, trembling, falling away from the wound and dropping to the workshop floor.  There was a sense of hopelessness in the movement that tore a primal sound out of Sam's chest.

Alec eased Dean onto his back and Dean went down easily, making no protest. There was no “I’m fine” and that scared Sam so much that for a split second he couldn’t move. Then Dean sighed, the life visibly draining out of him at a horrifying speed and Sam was up and running, landing hard on his knees beside his brother.

“Dean! Look at me. Hey! Here! Look at me. Hold on man.”

Dean’s eyes swiveled slowly towards him; he was already struggling to focus, a greasy sweat forming on his grey face as his blood pressure dropped alarmingly. Terror clamped Sam’s chest in iron fingers. It wasn’t fair; after all they’d been through, it seemed impossible that a simple slash of a knife might steal away his brother’s life so quickly.

Alec already had his fingers pressed hard against the pressure point in Dean’s groin, the heel of his other palm bearing down on top of them. The blood flow slowed, but still didn’t stop and Alec swore, viciously. He turned his head towards Bobby.

"We gotta stop the bleeding. Tourniquet.”

“On it.” Bobby was moving, rooting under the bench, dragging out a large tin box. Somewhere deep down, Sam felt a throb of gratitude that the old hunter was always so well prepared.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alec’s boot descend onto his brother’s groin. Sam let out a choked protest, a “don’t hurt him” sort of noise that petered out when he saw the look of determination on the transgenic’s face.

“Gotta stop the bleeding, Sammy.” Alec applied weight to the pressure point. The flow of blood from the wound finally stopped. “Bobby!”

“Here.” The metal box slammed onto the ground. Bobby had the lid open in seconds and thrust a dressing at Sam. “Get that around Alec’s chest while I put a tourniquet on Dean.” He peered at the wound on Dean’s thigh, sending a worried glance at Alec.

“Nicked the femoral artery.” Alec confirmed, his voice tense. “It needs surgery. Now.”

“Paramedics are on the way.”

“He’s lost a lot of blood.  Hypovolemic shock is setting in. The hospital is more than thirty minutes away by road. You need to get some of my blood in him; it’ll help the clotting and the artery wall will start to heal. Even a bit is gonna help.” They were sharp bullet points of information, delivered like a report to a senior officer. Bare, cold facts that did nothing to detract from the fact that a man was dying beneath Alec’s boot, and that Alec was so focused on the fact that it was Dean that he was about to implode.

“Direct transfusion?” The stress was plain to see on Bobby’s face. “I got the kit… even got the anti-coagulant, but it ain’t somethin’ I’d ever choose to do. The risks… and there ain’t time..."

“We haven't got the time to collect it in a bag."

“Alec, I can’t take any of y’blood. Looks like you’re running low y’self!"

“I’m fine. I can put some fluids back in, soon as you’re outta here.”

"Balls!  I can't!  Direct transfusion... it's archaic!  The risks of clottin' alone!"

"Bobby.  I can do it. My blood, it's not the same as regular blood. We were designed for this, trained for it!"

Alec's eyes flicked from Bobby to Dean and back again.  "I keep telling you; I’m not a regular, normal human being. You're running out of options here old man. Out of options and out of time."

Sam pulled the dressing tight around Alec’s torso, trying to hold the edges of the wound together. He thought anyone else would’ve already been on the floor, but Alec was still upright, a picture of icily controlled calm. Sam quickly tied off the dressing, needing to be right next to his brother.  He reached out with his voice.

"Dean?"

“Still here, Sammy.” The words were barely louder than a whisper.

Alec made an involuntary sound, relief and terror rolled into one. The icy mask of his perfect features shivered and almost cracked. 

It was in that precise moment that Sam suddenly realized just how fragile Alec was, like a sheet of fine, highly polished glass.  One tap in the wrong place and he would shatter into a million sharp-edged pieces.  He wondered, uneasily, if Dean was the same.

Bobby hunkered down, indecision written in the line of his shoulders, the furrow of his brow. He laid a palm against Dean’s face, but Dean didn’t seem to notice as he ran his tongue clumsily over his pale lips and stared in a dazed way at the workshop roof. His skin felt cold and clammy under Bobby's hand.

“Bobby…” Sam’s voice broke as he checked his brother's vitals. “His blood pressure is dropping fast.”

It was an emergency. Unwillingly, uncharacteristically scared of making things worse, Bobby pulled a bag of equipment out of the metal box and set to work.

Alec dropped down, lowering his face close to Dean’s, the intensity of his emotions leaking out, almost tangible.

“Dean. You gotta stay with us. We’re gonna fix this. All you gotta do is hang in there.”

“Alec.” Bobby was peering at the transgenic’s wrist. “I ain’t sure I got the eyesight anymore…”

Alec took the needle from him with a sure hand. “I got it, Bobby. You set Dean up.”

The two men worked, their movements controlled but urgent.  Sam forced himself to hold back, out of the way. He realized that White's body was still lying on the workshop floor. Tearing himself away with difficulty, he dragged the corpse into the store room and scattered the contents of a tub of sand over the workshop floor, turning the crime scene into nothing more than an oil spill.  As an afterthought, he rolled a sharp metal file into the bloody puddle near to Dean. Bobby sent him a grateful glance of approval. The stage was set for a believable workshop accident as far as Dean was concerned. Alec, not so much, but the transgenic seemed to read their minds.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be outta sight.”

Blood was already flowing into the tubing from Alec's wrist as he sat cross-legged on the floor, all his attention on his double. Careful not to disturb the life line, Sam draped his jacket over Dean, hunkered down and took hold of the cool skin of his brother’s wrist in his long fingers, comforting and monitoring all at the same time. Dean looked up at him with a slow blink, his breath sharp, shallow snatches at life.

Alec, face luminous in the dim light, reached out with his free hand and laid it on Dean’s shoulder. They sat there, Dean held tight between them, watching red life slide smoothly down the plastic tube.

.

Time can be a funny thing. To Sam, the wait for the paramedics lasted for a thousand years, but was also over between one slow breath and another.

Then there was a meaningless blur of high-viz jackets and bright red blankets. IV’s were inserted and taped, dressings applied. Sam was bundled into the Impala by Bobby and they roared after the ambulance. Alec had already disappeared, retreating into the house without Sam even noticing.

Sam stayed in a daze during the entire journey and trailed unsteadily after the stretcher until the expected set of double doors were slammed in his face. Someone gave him papers on a clipboard, but his IQ abandoned him; he just stared at the jumble of symbols on the pages until Bobby gently took the pen out of his hand and filled them in himself.

“Sit down, afore y’fall down. C’mon son, he’s in good hands.”

But Sam stood, swaying like a tall tree in a high wind, waiting to hear if his roots were still fixed in the ground or if he was going to topple off the edge of the world.

Eventually the words “lacerated artery”, “some of the surgeon’s finest work”, “wonderful how that artery wall virtually repaired itself” chipped their way through the fog in his concussed brain.

He tugged at Bobby’s sleeve, the overheard words knocking about in his skull, seeking reassurance like a small child.

“Yeah Sam, y’brother is gonna be fine. Just give him some time to come outta the anesthetic and y’can see him.” Bobby’s gruff voice was oddly gentle and Sam finally let himself be steered to a ridiculously low plastic chair, surely designed for seven year olds. He flopped down, his knees nearly up to his chin.

“Balls… it’s just the concussion. Don’t apologise, y’idjit.”

Sam snuffled and snorted into the massive cotton handkerchief that Bobby produced from his pants' pocket. He’d never put Bobby down as a man who used anything other than an oily rag or his sleeve for boogers, but hey, it was Bobby and he was ever a man of unexpected depth.

.

Alec retreated to the kitchen and flopped into a chair by the table, keeping his cell close by his side. By the time the ambulance pulled away, closely pursued by the Impala, he’d set up an IV ready for insertion and carefully removed the blood soaked dressing.

The slash was already starting to heal, but a few stitches were still needed to pull the outer flaps of skin together. He sloshed some antiseptic into the wound; it wasn’t really necessary, but the sharp sting was welcome, bringing him back into focus long enough to stitch a neat row of tiny, black stitches across his ribs. A pad of gauze and a large dressing later and he was done.

“IV,” he muttered to himself, finding his fingers were shaking too much to insert the needle. In the end, he succeeded by bracing one wrist against the table edge. The steady drip started and he dragged in a weary and relieved breath. He slumped there for a while, watching black spots swirl across his vision like a murmuration of starlings; the temptation to pass out was almost overwhelming.

He was cold, so cold; even transgenics could only lose so much blood. _Shock_ , he thought muzzily. _Gotta move._ He staggered into the front room, hung his IV bag off the lampstand and kicked the old electric fan heater into life. The lumpy couch enveloped him in its musty cushions and broken springs and the old comforter dropped down easily, wrapping him in dusty warmth.

He lay there, fighting off unconsciousness, until Bobby called.

“In recovery… Yeah, that’s great. Yeah. I’m fine. I’m gonna get some sleep now.”

The call light went out. The cell slipped out of Alec’s fingers and at last he let himself slide into the dark silence.


	25. Chapter 25

With Sam parked safely next to his brother's bed and Dean sleeping off the anaesthetic, Bobby finally felt able to make his exit, leaving the brothers in the enthusiastic care of a bevy of nurses. It didn’t do a patient any harm, he decided, to be young and easy on the eye.

He burned rubber back to Singer Salvage in a way that Dean would definitely not have appreciated, although in the circumstances he would’ve surely done the same. Alec had sounded clear enough on the phone, but Bobby had picked up an underlying shake in his voice he didn't like and the youngster hadn't picked up a call since.

It was dark and quiet at the house and Bobby took the steps slowly, with his shotgun at the ready, trying to make up his mind if it was better to shout out or not. In the end he decided that, if there was a bad guy or an assassin transgenic waiting to shoot him, they would have to be deaf or half dead not to have heard the Impala. He sincerely hoped it wasn't the latter.

He gently toed the door open and slipped inside, nostrils twitching as they were invaded by the metallic odor of blood, overlaid with the sharper tang of antiseptic.

"Alec?"

There was a sleepy mutter from the direction of the front room as Bobby flicked on the light. The first thing he saw was the array of medical items on the table, shining in the stark light; blood soaked dressings trailed untidily out of the trash can. Bobby grimaced; Alec shouldn't have had to deal with this by himself.

He could see Alec's boot poking over the end of the couch in the wash of light from the kitchen bulb; his foot jerked a little and Bobby moved swiftly into the front room, turning on lights as he went.

He found Alec flat on his back on the couch, long legs propped up on the armrest, one arm trailing down to the floor, furled fingers inches from the abandoned cell phone. The other arm was arranged across his midriff on top of the old comforter. A piece of tape held the IV needle and tubing in place; the fluid bag hanging from the lamp was empty.

"Alec... balls...are you okay kiddo?"

Bobby approached cautiously, but Alec didn't stir again until he laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Alec?"

A little crease appeared between Alec's brows as he mumbled something inaudible. He was very pale, skin stretched tight across the fine bones of his face. Bobby increased the pressure of his fingertips, just a little.

“C’mon kid. Talk to me.”

A small sigh and Alec was looking at him, his green eyes unusually dull.

"Bobby?" One soft word that held several questions.

"Yeah. Dean's okay, just gonna need to take it easy for a time. And Sam's doing okay too, take more'n a knock like that to addle that hard noggin of his."

A little smile curved the edge of Alec's mouth and his eyelids drooped back to half-mast.

“On the other hand, you ain’t lookin’ so good.”

“I always look good.” The little smile stayed in place.

Bobby huffed, exasperated, the familiar looks and response before him so like Dean that his hands automatically began a triage of damage. Alec made a small sound of protest but was instantly hushed.

“Keep still, y’idjit.”

Alec stilled, unused to the attention but responding to the note of authority, finding an odd comfort in the passage of firm and caring hands. He was slipping back under when the cold touch of the thermometer in his ear startled his eyes wide.

“Runnin’ kinda cold there, ‘n y’blood pressure’s still down.” Bobby focussed on the fast trip of the pulse in Alec’s neck. “I’m gonna give y’some more fluids. Let me check that wound first.”

He helped the younger man to sit upright and gently undid the dressings. Alec bore it in silence, without giving away any sign of discomfort until Bobby pulled away the final gauze, then he shuddered and sighed and dipped suddenly forwards into Bobby’s shoulder. Bobby cupped the back of his head, supporting him there until he came back to himself.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “I’ve gotcha. Take y’time.” After a while, Alec lifted his head, his eyes closed as he gave a grim nod for the procedure to continue. Carefully, Bobby continued his inspection. The wound was even nastier clean than it had been bloodied, but for all that it was clearly healing and there were no visible signs of infection.

“Y’could sell that blood of yours.”

“Nah.” Alec’s face moved into a ghostly version of his normal smirk. “Leave you some though, when I go.”

Bobby’s calloused fingers paused in their application of antibiotic cream, then resumed. He cleared his throat, speaking with care.

“When you go?”

Alec winced slightly, reacting to both the words and the sting of the antibiotic.

“White would never have come here; he was after me.”

“This ain’t your fault kid.”

“If I hadn’t hooked up with the Winchesters, they wouldn’t be in the hospital.”

The loss on Alec’s face tore at Bobby’s heart.

“You don’t have to go nowhere. We’ve got y’back.”

“I know. That’s why I gotta go, Bobby. Who knows what else is gonna follow me. You’ve got enough troubles here.” Alec reached out, long fingers, Dean’s fingers, fastening on Bobby’s arm. “Keep it to yourself, but soon as Dean’s up and about, healed, I’m outta here.”

“Alec!”

“Made up my mind, Bobby. You’ve gotta help me. ‘Sides, who knows what’ll happen to those bozos in Seattle without my help, huh?”

Alec forced a cocky smile, his face a grey, sweaty mask that Bobby’s experienced eye penetrated easily as he tied off the new dressing and draped a soft, blanket around the bundle of hurt and confusion on his couch.

“Stay put.”

Minutes later a mattress was on the floor next to the couch and Alec was stretched out, propped by cushions and wrapped in warm bedding. Bobby set up a new drip in silence and settled himself on the couch with a bottle of whiskey. He took a slug, straight from the bottle, hissing a little as the burn tore at his throat.

“I shoulda stayed with ya.”

Big green eyes turned to him, puzzled. “Why would you? The Winchesters are kinda like… sons to you.”

“You would be too, y’jackass.”

There was a flicker of gratitude and the tired, young face turned into the cushion. Bobby took another slug and capped the bottle, stretching himself out on his side and mentally cursing the self-sacrificing Winchester genes. He jammed a cushion under his head, tucked the whiskey bottle securely in the crook of his knees and dropped a hand down over the edge of the couch onto Alec’s shoulder.

“Right here, kiddo. Get some sleep.”

There was a small movement in response and then Alec went still, just the soft sound of his breathing in the cluttered room.

  .

_Heat. Burning heat and the raw stink of sulphur. Ames screamed reflexively as the temperature seared his skin, the sound swallowed by the clamour of shrieks and the roaring of fire._

_A dark haired man in chains turned a blood streaked face towards him and looked at him without recognition._

_Ames threw up, choking, spitting. The man watched him, only vaguely interested._

_Ames spat again, clearing his mouth enough to speak. “John Winchester. You’re dead.”_

_“Yeah.” The man stared at him out of dark, bloodshot eyes. “You got me there. Right on both counts. Who in hell…” He snorted, bitter laughter. “Who in HELL are you?”_

_“I’m not meant to be here.”_

_“Figured that. Helps if you’re dead.” John Winchester’s tone was mocking, his instinctive dislike of Ames easily visible even through the streaks of blood._

_Ames tore at the small cloth bag tied around his neck on a piece of cord. “Shit!” The cord snapped under his frantic tugs, leaving the small bag in his grasp. His skin was blistering, his eyes tearing with pain; he had nothing to lose. Ames aimed at the flames to his right and launched the little bag into the heart of the fire. It burst into flame instantly, destroying the remains of one John Winchester, late employee of Manticore._

_._

Dean had woken up to the dim illumination of a night-time ward, sliding effortlessly from terrifying red-soaked dreams into yellow light.

He could hear Sam breathing next to him. A small twist of his head brought the unruly mop of hair into view. His brother was slouched in a bedside chair, legs propped on another, asleep and snoring lightly. Okay then, or at least mostly okay.

Dean fumbled around until he found the bed control and slowly whirred up to a sitting position, stopping and easing back a few inches when the dressing on his thigh began to pull. His leg throbbed with a deep pulse of discomfort and his fingers found dressings over what must be stitches. Either side of the dressing his thigh shone bare and cool in the dim light, oddly numb beneath his exploring fingertips. Nerve damage then, perhaps, or just some pain relief.

He sat there for quite a while, trying to get his head in order. His fingers drifted repeatedly across the dressing, picking at the sheet as he breathed in and out through his nose, keeping the rhythm deliberate, under control.

When his jaw started to quiver, Dean bit down hard, grinding his molars, aware that his lip was trembling. He didn’t get it; he’d been hurt worse. But there’d been something about that steady pulse of red pushing through his fingers. He had a vague memory of Sam holding his wrist, of Bobby rushing around, of Alec covered in blood. Then everything had gone grey and oddly distorted, sounds distant and toneless.

He worried about Alec until he couldn’t stand it anymore, then reached across and shook Sam’s knee. Sam startled awake, almost falling off the chair. In any other circumstances it would have been hilarious.

“Alec?” Dean asked, his voice croaking in his dry mouth.

“He’s okay. Bobby called; he’s looking after him.” Sam rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and turned sorrowful hazel eyes to his brother. “He saved your life.”

Dean nodded, shoving his hands underneath the sheet so Sam couldn’t see the shake in his fingers. “I know.”

Sam gave him a knowing look and scooted his chair forwards so he could casually drape an arm onto the bed, the edge of his hand resting lightly against Dean’s hip. He caught Dean’s troubled gaze and held it with the warmth of his own.

“Guess you’re part cat now too, huh?”

The smile and the dimples warmed a part of Dean he hadn’t realised was cold. He looked at Sam through his lashes, not sure what to say.

Sam’s smile grew; there was a gentle pressure against Dean’s hip, there and gone again. “Don’t let it worry you dude, you’re always out tom-catting around anyway.”

And Dean breathed, properly, the tension in his shoulders soaking away into the pillow.

He smiled. Just with his eyes, but it was a start.

.

_Ames curled in on himself, pulling his knees into his chest. The ice cold air and concrete were shocking against his blistered skin. He whined, involuntary tears streaming from sore eyes, breath panting through his peeling lips._

_The sharp snick of a round sliding into a chamber echoed in the cold, empty space._

_Ames froze, barely breathing._

_Slow, hesitant footsteps. A sharp intake of breath._

_“Sir? Sir is that you?”_

_Ames turned his head… tried and failed to swallow the sob of relief._


	26. Chapter 26

 

If you’d spoken to Bobby Singer immediately after the night he watched over Alec, he’d have told you he was going to make a point of remembering every second of the days that followed.

In reality, of course, that didn’t happen. Looking back, years later, Bobby found he remembered specific things, just little scenes from a much bigger screenplay.

.

Alec, recovering more slowly than expected…

Bobby was sure grief, or perhaps anticipated grief, had a large part to play in that.

Not knowing what else to do, he offered advice and dispensed soup.

Alec didn’t like the soup. Alec _really_ didn’t like the soup.

He did like it when Bobby kept asking him to stay, although he didn’t show it. Fortunately Bobby had years of practice reading Dean when he was hiding something, so he knew anyway.

.

Dean, arriving home, much too soon according to the hospital…

A Dean who was a little shaky, a little pale, but remarkably well, considering.

A Dean who seemed to be even more agile than normal and who could definitely see in the dark better than he’d been able to before his transfusion of transgenic blood.

That raised questions Bobby didn’t even want to ask.

.

Teaching Alec some mechanics…

Because it just might come in handy some time, somewhere.

Alec dropping his wrench onto the table, making Bobby jump enough to smack his head on the overhead locker. Alec marching up to him, looking at him very seriously from under his lashes and suddenly giving him a hug and a whispered, “Thanks Bobby.”

And Bobby did not have tears in his eyes after that. Not at all.

.

Overhearing Sam apologizing to Alec for something that’d happened on their hunt…

Apologizing and assuring Alec that as far as he was concerned, they were brothers.

And Alec saying “Don’t worry about it, I get it.” And “I kinda like having two older brothers.” With an Alec smirk, of course.

.

Dean pondering about something that kept a frown on his face for days… and finally cornering Bobby and just blurting it out.

“This time travel crap; why can’t I just go back and stop Dad making his deal?”

The way Dean’s expression went from desperate to upset and then to resigned when Bobby explained that the John in this universe had already made his deal. That if the deal hadn’t been made, Dean wouldn’t be sitting with him now and Alec would never have ended up in that alley. That Sam could survive without a father, but Sam just might not be able to survive without a Dean.

.

Snapshots. That’s all. Kept forever in the box in Bobby’s mind that was labelled ‘Alec’.

.

Sometime during those days, Sam dreamed of Jess. Even in his dream, he knew it was only a dream and that she was gone forever.

“You have to go and meet your little brother.” Her soft whisper into his ear made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He kissed her, tickled her ribs and felt her mouth laugh against his own.

“Go on.” She pushed him through the door and he found himself in a diner, with Dean, waiting for his brother to walk through the door.

Dean fussed around, swapping the cutlery for silver, tipping holy water into the water glass, waves of suspicion pouring off him and ruffling the surface of Sam’s anticipation.

When the diner door swung open, Sam sat up eagerly. Was it…?

He awoke and shot upright.

Alec raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to the TV.

.

_When Joshua blundered into Crash, hardly able to see where he was going with the large red crash helmet rammed onto his head, Max knew it was bad, she just wasn’t sure how bad._

_Original Cindy saw her expression from clear across the bar and was by her side in seconds, moving at almost transgenic speed._

_It was hard to understand Joshua, what with the crash helmet and the snot and all the “big fella seeing medium fella” but they understood enough to get up and start running._

_Alec needed them._

.

“Dean?”

The swirl of the polishing cloth over the Impala’s gleaming hood stopped, then resumed.

“Yeah?”

“You’re all better now, right?”

Dean took in a quick breath and turned to face the transgenic.

“I’m fine Alec.”

Alec leaned casually up the pile of crates outside Bobby’s door, tucking his hands into his pockets. The speech he’d been going over all morning seeped out of his head like smoke through a fishing net.

Dean stared at him, his face impassive. He held Alec’s gaze for a second or two before turning half away.

“Goddammit.” He flicked the cloth away across the expanse of shiny paint and dropped his head. Alec could see the flex of his ribs beneath the black t-shirt as he took in a deep breath.

He tried again. “Dean?” And Dean’s jaw came up and his eyes fixed on Alec’s face and then he was right there beside him, slinging an arm around Alec’s shoulders and squeezing hard, biceps and fingers digging into muscle and bone.

“I know.”

“Oh. Bobby told you?”

“No. Didn’t have to.” The gravel in Dean’s voice was more obvious than usual. “When you goin’?”

“Generally speaking,” said Alec carefully. “When you make up your mind to do something, it’s best to get moving, y’know, before the waterworks start.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah.”

“The fact is, I should be with my own kind.”

“You are with your own kind, kiddo.” Dean kept his gaze fixed on the Impala and kept his arm around Alec. “Anythin’ I can say to change your mind?”

Alec shook his head, the muscles along his jaw rippling. “I got debts to pay.” He stared at the Impala too, as though they might find an answer in the pattern of clouds reflecting in her glossy surface.

“Debts?”

“Yeah. Debts. Here… I owe you and Sam and Bobby. I brought danger here; you got enough crap in your life as it is.” He felt Dean’s intake of breath, the beginning of a protest, and held up a hand.

“Lemme finish. Debts at home too. There are transgenics like me, mebbe don’t know as much as me about surviving out in the world. I can help them. I reckon I owe them that much. And then…”

Alec swallowed. Perhaps this was the greatest debt of all. Dean waited, keeping Alec pulled in tight against his side.

“Y’know what I did, right? I killed people. It was my job. Maybe some of ‘em deserved it; some probably didn’t. But I killed ‘em anyway. They weren’t the only victims. How about their families, their friends, their kids! They’re all victims too and I owe them. If nothing else mebbe I can help stop this whole ‘transgenics are on the streets’ fiasco from blowing the hell up and wiping out what’s left of their world.”

For the first time during the conversation, he realised it was him holding Dean up, rather than Dean supporting him.

His donor’s voice was ragged. “I’ll drive you; we’ll drive you, wherever you need to go.”

Alec drew in air as sharp as razorblades, surprised he could still speak at all. “There’s some woodland, near to Seattle. It’s quiet. I was in a bad way last time; I’d rather not crash back into a busy street. ‘Sides, I used the woods as a way back into Seattle when I was running contraband. Went over the same route a ton of times.” He looked down, snorted with laughter. “Can’t go wrong.”

“The others know?”

“Bobby knows. I’m gonna tell Sam now.”

Dean ran shaky fingers through his hair. “You want me to go with you?”

“Nah.” Alec smiled a humorless smile, the light gone from his eyes. “Guess it’s time for those waterworks.”

.

The ping and tick of cooling metal came from behind them as the Impala cooled. Alec could still hear the deep rumble of her engine in his ears, but it was just a memory now, a sound he would never hear again.

“Any time now.”

Sam’s voice was raw as he checked his watch. They were in the right place, parked up on a rough track at the edge of the woods, the approximate time of Alec’s contraband run just a few minutes away. He let his jacket sleeve drop back over his wrist and pulled Alec into a desperate hug, the power in it bending the transgenic’s strengthened bones.

“You’re always gonna be my brother." Sam's quiet voice was earnest. "Wherever you are."

“Thanks,” whispered Alec, forcing the words past the jagged lump in his throat. “For everythin’.”  His vision blurred and he blinked furiously as they broke apart reluctantly.

Alec staggered back a pace, his legs shaking so much he may have fallen if Dean hadn’t gripped onto his shoulders. Dean tugged him in tight, his expression as wrecked as Alec felt.

Alec hung onto him, aware that the grip of his hands would leave bruises on Dean’s skin, but finding it physically impossible to let go.

“You haven’t gotta go.” A broken growl, the sound of Dean’s teeth grinding in his ear.

“I don’t want to… ” The admission that had been festering inside all day was torn from him. Panic snatched at Alec’s chest; he sucked in a lungful of the so familiar, so comforting scent and raised his head.

There was a puff of air against his throat as Dean began to speak, but the words never reached his ears, swallowed up by a cataclysmic roar.

Alec felt the leather of Dean’s jacket wrenched out of his grip as he was snatched away into a cold, dark place, his senses snuffing out abruptly like candles before a tsunami.

With horror, Sam realised his brother was being dragged into the whirling darkness with Alec. He lunged forwards, went sprawling full length on the dirt and grabbed at ragged denim.  He hung on desperately, his frantic fingers embedding themselves into Dean’s calf as a blinding storm of pine needles slammed into his face. Even over the roar of the chasm he could hear the awful sound of his brother screaming.

.

_Stretched out like taffy, as insubstantial as vapor, the being that was Dean Winchester seeped out of the darkness into the trees. Mute, insubstantial, with bars of sunlight filtering through his form, he hovered, puzzled._

_Alec passed him. An Alec dressed in dark t-shirt and canvas jacket, his face pale, the deep shadows above his jaw and the scowl of his eyebrows making him appear harder and somehow desperate. He glanced behind him, looking straight through Dean, the green/gold of his eyes catching the sunlight. Dean saw fear there and longing, years of exhaustion. Then he was gone, slipping away among the trees._

_A young woman followed, moving fast, her long dark hair whipping over the shoulder of her black leather jacket as she swerved into the trees, unerringly following his trail._

_Dean tried to call out, to warn Alec. The sound bounced off the tree in front of, around him, bounced and pushed him away, faster and faster, back into the darkness. Something was clawing at his leg, pulling him home._

_._

It stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

Dean collapsed untidily across Sam as though he was a puppet whose strings had suddenly been slashed.

Sam wriggled out from under the dead weight with some difficulty, Dean's knee flopping unexpectedly into his cheekbone and bringing reflexive tears to his eyes.  He scrabbled around, only remembering to breathe when he found a weak pulse in his brother’s neck. He tried for some time to get some response, without success, getting no reaction even to the vicious drag of his knuckle down Dean’s sternum.

Eventually, crying so hard he could hardly take in air, Sam pulled his brother onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Dean’s head rolled back against his upper arm, the pale, stubbled line of his throat achingly vulnerable. He was deeply unconscious.

_._

_Alec fell out of mid-air, slammed against a tree trunk and slithered down to sprawl face first across the dirt track. His index finger twitched once, then stilled. He was still there an hour later, in the same position, when Joshua’s nose led them to the spot._

_Joshua let out a sad howl, dropping to his hands and knees beside his friend, his nose snuffing vigorously for injury, blood._

_Max pulled up short, uncharacteristically unwilling to approach, Alec’s limp sprawl making her feel physically sick. The thought that she might never see the cocky smirk again was suddenly unbearable._

_“Is… is he?”_

_Joshua lifted his tear-streaked face. “Medium fella is very hurt. He is not waking up.”_

_Original Cindy took hold of Max’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze._

_“Pretty boy’s still alive, boo. Let’s not leave him layin’ on the dirt.”_

_Max shook herself mentally and dropped to her knees. She’d been trained to deal with this sort of situation. She checked Alec for injuries as well as she could, then took hold of his broad shoulders and hip and gently rolled his long frame towards her. Alec’s torso flopped back against her thighs in a too familiar position, long legs stretched across the track, his head lolling backwards towards the woodland floor and exposing the long line of his neck. Tears filled Max's eyes. This couldn’t be happening again._

_“He’s **alive** shuga.”_ _OC’s voice was gentle, encouraging, her elegantly manicured fingers wiping pine needles and bits of grass away from Alec’s face._

_Max ran her sleeve across her face and checked the weak pulse in Alec’s neck. Seconds later, at her nod, Joshua had swung X5-494 up into his arms and was following her back to the car._

_Original Cindy jogged behind them, struck by the way the tall transgenic dangled like a broken doll in Joshua’s arms. They were nearly back at the car when something small dropped out of the pocket of Alec’s jacket._

_Original Cindy frowned. The small object was incongruous in the woodland setting and she was about to step over it when some instinct made her pick it up instead._ _She sniffed at it and poked it carefully; it seemed innocent enough. By the time she caught up with the others, she'd decided that beneath the tissue paper of Alec's bravado, he was the most complex and lost person she knew. The object clearly meant something to him and should therefore be preserved._

_She tucked it securely back into his pocket, thinking with regret that he looked so ill he might not survive to care one way or the other._

_._

Dean shifted on the bed, restless and sweat-soaked with delirium.

Sam kept hold of his hand, as he had for most of the preceding few days, stroking gentle slow circles with his thumb. His bloodshot eyes turned to Bobby.

“Is he ever going to come out of this?”

Bobby put a fresh mug of coffee on the nightstand and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Y’brother’s strong, Sam. Keep talking to him, so he knows you’re there.”

He settled down near to the men he thought of as his sons, keeping vigil, waiting for Dean to come back to them.

.

_It was almost twelve hours before Alec stirred, slowly raising his eyelids to focus on Joshua’s muzzle._

_“Dude,” he protested weakly, rolling his face away. “Doggy breath.”_

_Joshua’s face split with a huge grin. “Medium fella is waking up!”_

_“Yeah,” muttered Alec, already sliding under again. “Is Dean here, and Sam?” He groaned. “I don’t feel so good.”_

_Joshua leaned in close. If Alec was admitting he didn’t feel good, things were really bad. “Just Joshua. Who is this DeanandSam?”_

_Alec’s eyes fluttered open again. He looked confused. “I dunno. Jus’ dreamin’.” He swallowed painfully. “Joshua? Good to see you big fella.” He patted Joshua’s cheek clumsily and wound his fingers into the long hair. “Don’t go away, okay.”_

_Joshua sighed, a look of misery settling on his features as Alec’s eyes closed and his hand dropped away._

_“Big fella is right here,” he assured him, petting the spiky hair. “Big fella will look after Alec.”_

.

“Dean’s taking a shower.” Sam flopped wearily at the table. “Still nothing.”

“He doesn’t remember diddly-squat?” Bobby’s voice was incredulous. “Not one single thing!”

“Nothing. He knows he had a concussion, that he’s been really sick.”

“He doesn’t remember Alec at all? But all that time! It’s not like it was a coupla days there, Sam!”

“He thinks it’s some sort of short term memory loss.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair, every part of his being stressed to breaking point. “I don’t know what to do!”

Bobby frowned at him, puzzled. “Well ain’t ya gonna tell him about Alec? Don’t ya think he’s got a right to know?”

“I’m scared, Bobby. He’s so… vulnerable right now. He was walking on a knife-edge because of Dad before all this. I’m not sure he can handle it right now.”

Bobby lifted his cap a little, reaching underneath with one finger to scratch at his head. It was the truth and he knew it.

“Then don’t tell him. Keep it to y’self… and if he remembers later on, we’ll deal with it then.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Bobby’s voice was firm. “Then we don’t tell him. Ever.”

.

_Alec sauntered into Jam Pony, raising a hand in casual acknowledgement of Normal's enthusiastic greeting. There was no doubt that the boss of the package delivery service was delighted at the return of his golden boy._

_Behind Alec, Max let out a hiss of disgust, muttering something about Normal behaving differently if it'd been anyone else._

_Alec raised an eyebrow at her, smirking._

_"No need for jealousy, Maxie."_

_She scowled at him._

_"Don’t be a smartass. And it’s Max."_

_"You might as well face it; Normal just likes me better than you.” Alec’s smirk widened into a grin. “Do you think it's because I'm awesome. I think it's because I'm awesome."_

_"What!"  Max slapped him hard upside the head. She'd never heard him say that one before. How had he managed to find something even more irritating than usual to say?_

_Alec dropped his chin, a little frown knitting his brows. Immediately Max regretted the slap, his too pale face reminding her that he'd only been back on his feet for a few days. She trailed after him to the lockers, watching him out of the corner of her eye as she unlocked her own. He had an odd expression on his face, almost as though he was puzzled._

_"Are you okay?" No answer. “Hey Alec, you okay?”_

_He snapped back to the present with a visible jerk, intense green eyes focusing on her. “Take more than a slap from you, Maxie.” The irritating smirk was back. “I’m always okay.”_

_Alec kept it casual, confused by the sudden sick feeling in his gut, but determined not to let it show. He flipped open his locker and hooked an arm over the top of the door, his loose slouch hiding the tremble in his legs._

_The big chocolate brown eyes fixed on him were unnerving, intrusive even._

_“Go away Maxie. You’re staring.”_

_She huffed and pouted and flounced off, sending him a parting scowl from the doorway._

_Alec turned into the lockers and rested his forehead against the edge of the door. He swallowed. Should transgenics get headaches? ‘Cause he was getting one. He fumbled in his top pocket for his sunglasses, fingerless gloves catching against the flap. Sunglasses? No, not sunglasses, something small and… he pulled it free, his eyes widening in surprise. A yellow duck?_

_Alec curled his fingers around the small toy, hefted it and was already eyeing up the trash can at the far side of the room when he caught a glimpse of the little face with its jaunty pirate patch. He lost his breath so suddenly he went dizzy, made a floundering grab at the end of his locker with his free hand and made contact with a hollow bang that raised heads. Oblivious, he stared at the duck with stinging eyes, overwhelmed by a feeling of loss but with no clue what it was that he’d lost._

_The unusual silence alerted him to the watching faces. Alec straightened up abruptly and tossed the toy into his locker, where it came to rest next to his sunglasses. He fished them out and slipped them on with a feeling of relief, the buzz of the room starting up again in response to Normal’s “Bip, bip bip!”_

_He’d already locked the door when he realized the duck was back in his fist. With a little frown, Alec buttoned it securely into his pocket and headed to the desk to sign for his package._

_“Metallica.” Normal said helpfully._

_“Huh?”_

_“That tune you’re humming; it was a hit song by some old rock band called Metallica. Before your time, young man.”_

_Alec smiled easily and headed out._

_._

**THE END?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this crazy journey through the worlds of Supernatural and Dark Angel. It ended up so much longer than the few chapters I thought it would take; the characters just didn’t want to let go!   
> This is the end of this fic… although I suppose the door is open just a crack to let a sequel in?  
> Love to know what you think about this fic and the possibility of a sequel?
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments and for taking the time to read : )


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had lots of requests to continue this crossover between Supernatural and Dark Angel, so here goes! Thanks for all your support on part 1.
> 
> Part 2 starts here… it will be strictly AU now for both fandoms, however I will try and tie it into the last things we know about the Dark Angel universe (as portrayed in the TV series) and to major events in Supernatural.
> 
> The Dark Angel story continued in print after the TV series and I will not be following that storyline, other than to start with Alec in a newly established transgenic nation in Terminal City. This is a crossover, so I will not be attempting to conclude the Dark Angel overall story arc, rather I will be concentrating on my own trip through a world where Alec, Max, the Winchesters and other main characters are thrown together.
> 
> I will try and update regularly, but it will be around a life that regularly both implodes and explodes, so please be kind.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

_ Alec _

_ Set some weeks after ‘Freak Nation’ _

_Joshua’s flag still stood proud over Terminal City, the white dove soaring in the updraft from the buildings. It was a little more battered than it had been, but then again they all were._

_Alec stood in the fine drizzle and watched it for a while, wondering if he’d ever be free to fly away into a clear sky. He shifted, uncomfortable as cold rain seeped out of his hair and crept down the back of his neck beneath the collar of his black leather jacket._

_At first it had been so uplifting, the transgenics’ escape to Terminal City and the creation of their own nation. Now? Now a few weeks had passed and the whole thing had slipped off the front page of the news, as everything does, eventually._

_Alec and Mole had worked together and set up a good, tight security system around the transgenic’s new home. Max, newly attached in an awkward and latex-gloved way to Logan, had become responsible for overall leadership. She now seemed to spend her time rushing from one crisis to another and negotiating through a loud-hailer with Clemente and representatives from the Government. The majority of the transgenics, used as they were to Manticore’s control, had fallen easily into line, finding a semblance of happiness in the new sense of belonging, even if it was freedom within limits. A few had slipped away over the wall and gone off to make their own way in the world, but for the first time in their lives it was a decision they’d been free to make. It was a world that, one day, Max hoped would accept them all as free and equal citizens. Until then, at least they had their own place, even if it was, for now, an uneasy truce behind barricades._

_The trouble was, the longer Alec spent there, the more he felt it wasn’t his place. He’d thrown himself whole-heartedly into the defenses of Terminal City, found that his opinion was sought after more than he’d ever expected and proved he was, in his own way, a natural leader when it came to soldiering._

_The fault, he knew, lay within himself. Ever since his unexplained illness, he’d been off-balance, not at the top of his game. The gunshot wound at Jam Pony had healed slowly, far too slowly for a transgenic. Sometimes, even now, he still felt a low level fever draining his strength, but he was sure that was more due to an unexplained burden of grief than any real physical weakness. He’d picked through his memories, time and time again, and nothing could explain why he felt so upset. It was that same feeling of disquiet that had brought him here, to stand alone in the cold rain, surrounded by a small city of his own kind, and feeling more lost and lonely than ever before._

_“Hey, pretty boy!” The gruff voice belonged to Mole, a prized cigar clamped between his teeth and a pugnacious glower on his face. “Max is looking for ya.”_

_Alec shrugged, finding it difficult to care. The rain slid down his forehead and dripped off the end of his nose. Mole squinted at him and took the cigar out of his mouth._

_“What’s up with ya?”_

_“I’m fine, Mole. Just peachy.” ‘Peachy’ thought Alec, another word that had turned up in his vocabulary from nowhere. He pushed down the dull pang in his gut and stitched on a smirk that failed to wipe the misery from his eyes. “Mustn’t keep our leader waiting. Where is old Maxie anyway?”_

_“ **Max** is right here.”_

_“Dammit Maxie, you gotta stop sneakin’ up like that.”_

_“You’re an X5 smartass; I can’t sneak up on you.”_

_Alec’s smirk widened. He winked at Mole. “She’s got a mind like a steel trap, Mole. You can’t get anythin’ past her.”_

_Mole sniffed and clamped the frayed end of the cigar back between his teeth. “You two gonna start clawing chunks of fur, I’m outta here.” He stomped off, muttering something about “damn cat DNA”._

_Alec made to follow him, but Max’s small hand on his forearm halted him. He raised an eyebrow lazily, a challenging glint in his green eyes. “Whattsup Maxie? You’re not in heat are you?” He sniffed dramatically at the air._

_Max’s hand fell away but she held his gaze with her own direct stare. “What’s got you all rotated?”_

_For a moment, Alec almost wanted to tell her, although he had no words to explain what he didn’t understand himself. He caught himself in time, dipped his chin and broke eye contact._

_“Walls are tight, security is good.” Max spoke carefully. “We could use someone on the outside. See how things are holdin’ up south of Seattle where transgenics aren’t hot news. Long term, we’re goin’ to need more suppliers. I could do with someone I trust making a run south.”_

_Alec’s head was still down, but he looked at her from under his lashes, unable to hide the flicker of interest on his face. “You have somebody in mind?”_

_“Yeah, Alec. You. You know your way around out there in the world.”_

_“What about Terminal City? We’re under siege here. In our friend Mole’s words, it’s a pig farm out there.”_

_Max shrugged, hiding her concern about Alec under a veneer of hard ass bravado. “We’ll manage. I’ll do what I always do, make it up as I go along.”_

_Alec swallowed. When he spoke, there was a note of hope in his voice. “What about White?”_

_“I’ll dealio. What I need is a smart Alec out there roundin’ me up some suppliers who aren’t afraid of public opinion.”_

_Alec squared his shoulders. “Guess I’ll get goin’ then.”_

_The small hand was back on his forearm. Max tilted her head up, suddenly softer than he’d ever seen her._

_“Be careful out there.”_

_Alec smirked again, just a little of it reaching his eyes this time. “Always am, Maxie, always am.”_

_._

The Winchesters

(Set just after Born under a bad sign)

“Dean!”

Dean mumbled something into his pillow, fighting the sheets as he twisted in the arms of a nightmare. Sam could see that his right hand was underneath the pillow, his fingers no doubt already wrapped around the handle of his knife.

“Dean!” Sam approached as closely as he dared. Even so the knife blade was at his neck faster than he could blink. For a moment there was just fear on his brother’s face and then recognition but still fear. Sam’s eyes filled with tears, part of him hoping that Dean would draw the shining blade across his throat and finish, once and for all, the pain of living every day knowing his elder brother no longer trusted him, not entirely.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly as he took in Sam’s stricken expression and even as the knife was withdrawn, a shutter dropped across his face. He rolled quickly away, the knife disappearing back under the pillow.

“Dean?”

“I’m okay.” Dean was already on his feet, facing away from Sam until he’d schooled his expression to an impassive mask.

“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

“Already have Sammy.”

But forgiven isn’t forgotten. Never was. Never will be. Sam’s eyes overflowed, the tracks immediately dashed away by a large hand.

Dean was already in the bathroom doorway when he half-turned to look at his little brother. “I need to put some miles between us and…” He gestured vaguely at the room. Sam knew he meant this town, this state. He waited anxiously to see it meant him too. Dean seemed to have run out of words though and was staring at the mirror by the entrance door with a puzzled frown on his face.

“Where we headed?” Sam asked, cautiously, a little breathlessly.

Dean blinked, seemed to realize he was being spoken to and ducked into the bathroom. “I dunno. North I guess. The Impala needs a good run.”

Sam opened his mouth and shut it again. The Impala hadn’t needed a “good run” since November 2, 1983.

.

Dean slammed the bathroom door, already unnerved by the nightmare in which Sam gunned him down with a smile on his face, now shaken further by the strange double image of himself in the motel room mirror. He scrubbed his eyes, blaming a succession of nights with poor sleep, and wiped the small vanity mirror over the sink. Green eyes over bruised shadows. Tired face. Dean sighed and filled up the tooth glass with water, raising it to his lips as he looked again in the mirror. Suddenly there it was again, an overlaid image of a younger version of his own face, wearing an expression that he recognized but rarely used.

“Sonofabitch!”

The glass shattered in the sink with a sharp sound. Dean fumbled blindly for the pieces, barely aware of Sam opening the door behind him or his brother’s sudden exclamation at the bright blood in the dingy sink bowl.

“Hey, Dean, leave it man.”

Sam pulled him away and Dean reeled, unexpectedly dizzy as a half-formed memory poked at the lobes of his brain. He pawed at his forehead, smearing blood into his eyebrows and peering fuzzily in the direction of the mirror.

“What’s up with you? You okay?” Sam had hold of his upper arm, concern pulling at his features.

Dean blinked, turning puzzled eyes to his brother.

“Who’s Alec?”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it begins… be good to know what you think of this new chapter.  
> Thanks for reading : )


	28. Chapter 28

Dean blinked, turning puzzled eyes to his brother. “Who’s Alec?”

Sam’s heart plummeted. “Alec?” He said carefully, keeping his face as neutral as possible.

His brother kneaded at his forehead with a shaky hand, the blood from his cut finger smearing further into his hairline. His voice rose.  "Yeah. Alec!” He stared at Sam, reading the poorly concealed guilt. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

“I don’t know an Alec,” said Sam, hating how easily the lie sprang to his lips.

A range of emotions flitted over Dean’s face as he took a step backwards, away from his brother, his feet stumbling on the uneven linoleum flooring. Automatically, Sam reached out and caught hold of his shoulders to steady him, feeling the heat and bulk of a dressed wound beneath the shirts at the same moment as Dean pulled away with a sharp hiss, his face twisting involuntarily in pain.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice went up a pitch with concern. “Are you hurt?” A pregnant pause. “Did I hurt you?”

The words were unnecessary. They both knew Sam had hurt his brother, the livid bruises on Dean’s face bore silent testament. Sam felt a sick slide in his gut, the dawning knowledge that he’d done something far worse than beat his brother nearly unconscious. Something terrible enough that Dean hadn’t even told Bobby.

“What did I do?” It was almost a plea. “Let me see.” Sam reached out again but Dean backed off into the main room.

“Gerroff me.” He collapsed onto his ass on the nearest bed, his hand grasping his left shoulder as he stared at Sam with feverish eyes. There was an underlying panic in his gruff voice.  "What’s all this crap in my head, Sam? Huh?"  He let go of his shoulder and ran his fingers across his forehead, the shaking pronounced enough that they danced a staccato rhythm against his skin.

"It's ok Dean, I can explain..."

"Sure you can." His brother's voice was bitter. He pushed himself to his feet and slammed his way into the bathroom.

Sam stared at the solid bulk of the door for a moment, but it was more than just a physical barrier. After a moment more he pulled out his cell 'phone and speed-dialled Bobby.

"Bobby," he said without preamble when the grumbly tones answered. "It's Dean, he remembered."

"Balls! That ain't good Sam, especially now, when he's already knocked all off-centre by your demon possession and all."

"What do I do? I don't know what to say to him. Do I just tell him everything?"

"Don't see as y'have much choice, but he ain't gonna be pleased."

"Dammit Bobby! I hoped he'd never remember. He's not up to this right now."

"Well, it ain't good timing, Sam, I'll give y'that, but I guess it had to happen someday. Dean ain't the kind that forgets family."

"He's hurt Bobby."

"Well y'whaled on him real good there, son."

Sam winced. "Yeah I know, but it's not just that. He's got a dressing on his shoulder. Do you know anything about that?"

"He never said nothing to me, but this is Dean we're talking about. He ain't exactly big on sharing. Talk to him Sam. Call me if y'need me to talk to him, y'hear me?"

"Yeah Bobby, I will. Thanks man."

Sam slid the cell 'phone back into his jeans’ pocket and turned to face the bathroom door, finding himself unexpectedly face to face with his brother.

"You both knew." There was a look of betrayal on Dean’s face.

"I can explain," said Sam desperately. "It's not how it looks!"

"Then how the hell should it look, Sammy?" Dean moved into the open space in the center of the room, his movements agitated. "At what point exactly were you planning on tellin’ me?"

Sam broke eye contact, guilty and with no idea how to explain that it'd all seemed for the best at the time.

Dean's mouth pulled into a humorless smirk. "No excuses this time, Sammy." His expression hardened, the bruises stark against the pale skin. "It's not as if you had some demon drivin’ back then, was it?" He swallowed hard, his voice suddenly quiet, hurt. "I can't trust you at all, can I?"

Sam opened his mouth to protest and didn't even see Dean's fist coming his way. It landed hard against his jaw and he found himself lying on the floor; a spatter of gravel hit the door as the Impala roared out of the parking lot.

Sam rolled up unsteadily onto his hands and knees and shook his head, fingering his jaw gingerly. "Damn it, Dean."

.

 _Alec had been gone just over a week when the first call came through to the command center. Gem took it, jotting down Alec’s terse instructions about the imminent arrival of supplies_ _while she balanced her baby on her hip._

 _“No,” she confirmed to_ _a surprisingly intent_ _Max, there was no other message._

_A few days later the first delivery arrived, desperately needed supplies delivered to a secure location agreed between Alec and Mole. Mole set up a task force and dealt with the retrieval of the supplies and their storage within Terminal City._

_A few days after that,_ _Alec made a brief appearance, confirmed he’d_ _begun to_ _set up a network of suppliers and requested a bag full of Joshua’s paintings._ It _seemed the transgenic artist’s work was suddenly a highly desired item in the cities of the west coast and like all highly desired items, it fetched a fine price. Enough, it seemed, to keep Terminal City supplied for some time to come._

 _Max almost missed seeing Alec altogether. If he hadn’t stopped by to see Joshua,_   _he’d have been gone before she even_ _knew he was there._   _She caught sight of him striding away from the accommodation block. An initial jolt of surprise and something akin to pleasure was replaced immediately with a familiar flare of irritation when she_ _realized he was heading towards the disused sewer pipe that led out into the streets of Seattle._

“ _Hey!” Max quickened her step_ _and caught up with him as he_ _approached the guarded entrance. Alec_ _turned, the light falling_ _full_ _on_ _his face; she saw  was a little thinner, darker somehow, with shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes._

_The snarky comment poised on her lips was discarded before it was fully formed and she was suddenly uncharacteristically lost for words._

_Alec_ _waited for a moment, then_ _raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Somethin’ you want to say there, Maxie?”_

 _“_ Y _ou did good with the supplies,”_ _she managed eventually. Then in a burst of honesty. “_ _You look like crap. Why don’t you chill for a few days, where you don’t have to watch your back all the time?_ _”_

_Predictably, Alec smirked. “Well now, Maxie, didn’t know you cared, being as you’re all loved up with Logan again.”_

_Max flushed, fought down the instinct to slap him upside the head and took a deep breath._

_“You just got here.”_

_“And now I’m leavin’. See, that’s the thing with setting up a network of suppliers… you have to pay them, or they get all unreasonable and mean-spirited.”_

_“You need some help out there?”_

_“Now why would I need help? I work better alone, Maxie, you know that. Don’t worry, you’ll get your supplies.”_

_She wanted to tell him he looked ill, worn down, but didn’t know how to put it into the sort of soft words other women might use. “There’s somethin’ off about you.” No, she thought, as soon as the words hit the air; that wasn’t it at all._

_Alec frowned at her, his face falling into offended lines. “There is never anythin’ off about me. I’m a superior specimen, remember?”_

_“You’re a superior ass!”_

_“Why thanks Maxie, I’ll carry those words close to my heart.” And with a dramatic gesture to his heart and a final smirk, Alec was gone, taking an aura of misery with him._

_Max thought he had never looked more like Ben._

_._

"Bullcrap!" Bobby's voice was sharp with frustration as it crackled through the speaker. "Did ya even find out how much he remembers?"

"No," said Sam ruefully. "He took off before I could explain."

"I got a friend owes me a favor. I can get a car there for ya in 10 minutes." There was a pause and Sam could hear him speaking on another 'phone in the background, then his whisker-muffled voice was back in Sam's ear. "You've gotta catch up with him... there's no telling what he might do."

Sam's breath caught. "You don't think he’d try and go after Alec?"

"Just find him, Sam, afore he ends up some place where he gets pulled through whether he intends it or not."

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it isn’t a longer chapter… but it was put up a short one now, or wait even longer for a few more words.  
> Thanks for your awesome messages so far on part 2! Love to hear from you, as always : )  
> Thanks so much for reading.


	29. Chapter 29

The Impala jolted over the potholes at the entrance of the parking lot and Dean pointed her north, or as north as the road allowed. At first he just drove, his mind a mess of half-remembered events, Sam’s demonic possession and a vague memory of another brother… a brother? Alec? All of it strangled by confusion at the reason for the enormous untruth concocted by his brother and surrogate father.

Gradually he surfaced for mental air and found he was driving one-handed, the fingers of the other hand digging into the skin around the throbbing infection in his left shoulder. He pulled over, parking untidily on the grass bank and fumbling in his pocket until he found a pill bottle. He removed the lid with difficulty and swallowed a couple of pills, washing them down with warm water tainted with the cloying taste of plastic. He sat there for a few minutes, frowning, alternately running his hand over the heat of his shoulder and the damp skin of his forehead.

Something had happened. Something big and something bad. And it had started in Seattle.

Dean took another swig of water, had a quick glance at the map and headed for the north.

.

_Alec returned with the fourth delivery of supplies. He slipped into Terminal City in Mole’s wake, spoke briefly with one or two of the transgenics guarding the sewer pipe and went to see Joshua._

_Joshua gave him an enthusiastic hug, patted him vigorously on the back and announced that Medium Fella would be Little Fella soon if he didn’t eat more._

_“Medium fella is needing more mac ‘n cheese.”_

_Alec gave him a weary smile and dropped in a boneless way into the stuffed armchair that Joshua had found to replace the one he’d left in Sandeman’s house._

_“What I’m needing is more paintings…” He held up a hand as Joshua turned eagerly to point at the stack of canvases beside his bed. “Now you understand, what we’re dealing with here is a bunch of overpaid, bored interior decorators? Most of them wouldn’t know a fine piece of art if it bit them in the ass. And what they want is color schemes. But the thing is, Josh, they have money, lots and lots of money and it’s our duty to relieve them of as much of it as possible. So you, my furry friend, need to start painting to order.”_

_“Huh.” Joshua nodded cheerfully. “Here is orders.” He gestured again at the stack of canvases._

_“Whaddya got in green?”_

_Joshua rooted through the pile and pulled out a predominantly green array of paint splatters._

_“Yeah.” Alec nodded. “That’s what I’m talking about. Find me two more and I’ll take ‘em with me.”_

_A few minutes later he was gone. Joshua carefully re-stacked the scattered pile, pulling one canvas forward. He ran a finger over the bumps of dried paint, a sad expression on his face. “Alec,” he said softly. “Medium fella is losing all his pretty colors.”_

_._

The car provided by Bobby’s acquaintance was a pile of rust, but Sam decided the engine had enough power to enable the vehicle to break the sound barrier, if it didn’t fall apart first.

He figured if Dean remembered anything much at all, he’d head for Seattle, thinking Alec was there. He flicked open his cell, smiled a grim smile and dropped the cell on the seat beside him. Then he hunched his tall frame over the wheel and set about the near impossible job of out-driving his brother.

.

_Alec slipped soundlessly along the sidewalk, barely visible even in this place where the inhabitants had enhanced senses. Those that knew him well paused and then walked on, their greetings withered by the 1000 yard stare from tired green eyes._

_Mole caught him at the corner, blocking his path with his greater bulk as he spoke something low and gruff that only Alec heard. Alec looked at him, his expression suddenly lost and hopeless as he shrugged.   Mole took hold of his upper arm, gave it a little shake that caused Alec to drop his chin and shrug again before pulling away. He said something through a set jaw and walked on, slapping Mole on the shoulder as he passed. Mole turned slowly on his heel, staring after the X5 with a brooding expression his face until the tall figure disappeared into the sewer entrance._

.

As Dean drove, memories slowly emerged; they spooled and looped in his head, getting all mixed up with demons and Jo digging at his shoulder. He hissed, grabbing again at the wound as burning pain shivered down his arm and across his back. He knew he was running a fever, high enough that the world was pale and shimmering around the edges. He needed antibiotics, but first he had to find something…

“Alec…” he muttered, sure now of the name but still unable to recall quite what had happened. The only clear image was of swirling darkness, the memory of a roaring noise and the sound of someone crying out in pain as they were torn away from his grasp.

The miles blurred beneath the wheels, the sun sank briefly and then rose again and at last he bumped the Impala into the edge of a back street sidewalk in Seattle.

Dean clambered out slowly, cursing his own clumsiness and apologizing to the Impala for the scraped tire walls. The smell of smog and the hum and roar of the city surrounded him, the daytime bustle hidden from his view by a high brick wall.

Eternally grateful for GPS, tracking devices and whatever supercharged engine sat in the rust bucket of a car, Sam pulled in a few feet behind him, fully aware that despite all that he’d only caught up with Dean because his brother wasn’t running on all cylinders.

He took a couple of seconds to send a quick text to Bobby and stepped out onto the sidewalk. They were a couple of seconds that were to cost him dear.

In front of him, still oblivious to his brother’s presence, Dean stumbled, caught at his head and reeled awkwardly sideways into the empty road. Some sixth sense had Sam already in motion as thunder split the air. Dean fell, putting out his hands to brace himself against a ground that was no longer there as the road gaped open beneath him and Sam launched himself forwards, caught hold of the heel of his brother’s boot and was hurled violently away into unconsciousness.

.

_Dean… falling through a grey cloud, his eyes closed, limbs lax, swept out of sight despite Sam’s reaching hands… then treetops, branches catching at Sam’s clothes, twigs in his face as he landed heavily in some bushes. He lay, stunned, catching his breath. Nearby he could hear the sound of a fight, recognizing the sharp breaths, the thud and gasp of action. In the distance the rumble of vehicles and the whump of a helicopter moved steadily closer._

_There was a cry, bitten off, then silence. Warily, Sam put his head up enough to see through the greenery; he could make out long legs in dark jeans, black boots, the rest of the prostrate figure hidden behind a woman with long dark hair, who was kneeling with her back to Sam._

_Some words reached him, partly obscured by the sound of something moving through the undergrowth._

_A man’s voice, familiar, scared. “Don’t leave me here. Don’t let them take me.”_

_A female, quieter, barely audible. “… can’t carry you…get caught.”_

_More speech, too low to be heard, the sound of someone crying. Then a brief rustle of leaves as the woman left, running fast into the bushes._

_Sam pulled himself up onto his hands and knees, his eyes drawn irresistibly towards the sprawled figure. Dark jacket, white throat standing out in the gloom. Something horribly familiar about the angle of the head, the color of the hair. Sam’s heart began to hammer, his knees shaking as he rushed forwards and dropped down beside the body._

_It wasn’t Dean, he realized immediately, with a sickening lurch of relief mixed with dread. Was it Alec? It looked like Alec. His fingers sought the pale throat; at first it seemed there was nothing, then with a surge of hope he detected a tiny thread of a pulse, although the neck looked bent at an unnatural angle. It must be Alec, but he wasn’t breathing._

_Sam very carefully took hold of his head, checked the airway and began to give mouth to mouth, blanking his mind to the fact he had his lips on a carbon copy of his brother’s._

_After a minute or so, there was a weak gasp and the chest beneath his palm began to rise and fall of its own accord. Sam pulled away, very conscious that the noises in the undergrowth were getting closer and that Alec hadn’t wanted to be caught._

_He did a lightning fast triage that revealed a possible broken neck and a shattered knee joint, but somehow he still had to move 180 lbs of seriously injured transgenic._

_The hunting knife flashed quickly in the gloom, fashioned splints for the knee, bound with the arms of Sam’s shirt. Then a wooden brace from the skull to the mid back, tied in place with strips of the same shirt._

_“I’m sorry, buddy,” Sam whispered. “It’s the best I can do.” He slid an arm beneath the limp shoulders, keeping the braced head cradled against his shoulder. Then a gentle rise to standing, giving thanks for strong thigh muscles and the deeply unconscious state of the man in his arms._

_Moving carefully and using every skill imparted to him by John Winchester, Sam slipped ghostlike into the bushes. He’d only taken a few steps when the scenery wobbled, shifted. He curled his fingers into the dark fabric of the jacket and jeans in his arms and let himself be pulled sideways, disappearing from the scene with his load as though they had never been there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Dean and Sam are separated… and Sam thinks he is with Alec, but I think we know better. I think the proverbial just hit the fan!
> 
> Thank you for the lovely comments and for taking the time to read.
> 
> Love to hear from you.


	30. Chapter 30

Alec pushed his motorcycle out of the concealed entrance and settled the waterproof bag more securely around his back and shoulders. It was time to head back to California, get some more money from fools. He mounted the bike with an easy swing and gunned it into life, steering it casually around the debris of boxes and trash.

When it came, the shockwave was completely unexpected; the motorcycle flipped up onto its front wheel and cartwheeled across the street. Alec let himself be thrown clear, only his cat reflexes enabling the decision and the lightning fast roll. Even cat reflexes couldn’t stop his shoulder colliding with a metal post and he regained his feet with a slight stagger as the bike engine puttered and died a few feet away.

“What the…?” The question was cut short as a figure detached itself from the shadows and rammed into him with some force. Already off-balance, Alec stumbled and was still turning to face the threat when a solid object slammed into the side of his head.   There was a flash of light in his skull and then nothing.

.

Dean came down hard onto concrete, the breath driven out of him in a grunt as the fire in his shoulder exploded. He curled involuntarily into a fetal position, hand gripping his shoulder and teeth gritted. He fought his way through it in sharp panting breaths, instinctively trying to be quiet as he squinted around. It was dark; just enough light filtering through a grimy window for him to make out that he was lying on the sidewalk in some side street. Old boxes and general debris lay all around, graffiti looming over him in pale spray-painted loops against the dirty brick.

He forced himself to let go of his shoulder, used his good arm to push himself up until he was sitting more or less on his ass and then braced his boots against the gritty floor, shuffling himself backwards until his back was up against the nearest wall. He reached out and hooked a couple of large boxes with his fingertips, pulling them around and half over himself so he was partly concealed.

His head dropped back against the wall, senses swimming, but his mind as clear as crystal. Alec. His clone… brother… from a different universe. Memories flooded his mind, each one distinct. He remembered everything. As his body lost the slide into unconsciousness his last coherent thoughts were how ill Alec had been when he’d arrived in their Seattle and the vain hope that no-one would find him before he woke up.

.

It didn’t feel as though they’d moved very far in time or space.   Sam staggered, keeping both his footing and his grip on his precious load. He peered around. The woodland looked much the same although the sounds of pursuit were gone; everything silent except for the occasional call of a small bird. It was quite possibly the same place, but a different time. It seemed later in the day, and perhaps later in the year too, with less greenery and a colder feel to the air.

The burden in his arms was limp, heavy. Sam shifted his grip, his face setting in determined lines. He would get his little brother help, wherever they were.

.

Bobby pulled the tow-truck in front of the Impala. The heavyset figure beside him scratched at his chest through his grimy t-shirt and huffed a laugh. “Just where you said it’d be!”

“Thanks man. I owe ya.”

“Owe me nothin’. Hunters gotta look out for their own.” The man opened the door of the truck and dropped heavily down onto the road. He hitched up his pants in a distracted way, a warm note entering his gruff voice as he eyed the V8 rust bucket parked behind the Impala. “Good to be seein’ the old girl again though.” He slammed the truck door, slapped the panel in farewell and shuffled off. Seconds later the V8 grumbled into life and the rust bucket was gone.

Bobby climbed down slowly, checking his cell for the umpteenth time that day as he muttered into his own moustache. “Balls.” He sighed heavily. “Least y’caught up with him, Sammy.”

The Impala stood in solitary splendor in the street. Wherever the boys were, and whatever they were doing, Dean wouldn’t want her left here. With a heavy heart, Bobby set about loading her up. The Winchesters were out of reach and all he could do was take the Impala home and wait.

.

Alec came to with a start, shocked awake by the racket of the helicopter lifting off. He rolled his head to the side, wincing at the stab of pain above his ear. Black combat boots near to his face belonged to a sharp voice above him.

“Yes Sir. I have cable ties on him now, Sir.”

“You’ll need more than cable ties for that freak. 494 is a particularly troublesome specimen.”

White’s voice, easily distinguishable even over the whump of the blades. A tiny turn of Alec’s head brought him into view, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat.

Simultaneously aware of the constriction of the ties around his wrists and ankles and the buffet of wind against his side, Alec flipped onto his back and up onto his feet, thanking his luck that his wrists were bound in front of him. A blur of motion had the knife out of the belt of the startled operative in front of him and the tie on his ankles was severed in the same motion.

The speed of the reaction that slammed Alec into the bulkhead next to the open door confirmed his adversary was one of the breeding cult. Alec struck out, wrists still bound, the knife catching on webbing on the chest in front of him and then sliding home between ribs. It snagged, caught, the operative falling into him with a shocked look on his face. Alec fell backwards, found there was nothing behind him but empty air and dropped helplessly towards the treetops below them.

.

“I can pay.” Sam could hear the desperation in his own voice. The man peered at him wearily.

“Wouldn’t be doin’ it if ya couldn’t.” He motioned towards the scrubbed operating table behind him, squinting at Sam. “Don’t have much equipment left, y’understand?”

Sam nodded. “Just do what you can.”

The man stared at him a moment longer and then set to work. Sam sank wearily into a stained plastic chair, fingering the wad of notes in his pocket. It wasn’t ideal, this broken down clinic at the edge of Seattle, but it was the best he could do.

.

The smell of gasoline filtered into Dean’s consciousness, the sharp smell gradually rousing him. He raised his eyelids to a grey, cold dawn and blinked a few times, looking around with bleary eyes. The smell was coming from a motorcycle, lying on its side on the far side of the street, fuel weeping slowly from a tiny puncture in the tank.

There was no sign of anyone around and after a while Dean gathered himself together and clambered unsteadily onto his feet. The angular lines of the buildings, the curve of the road, all matched the street where he’d parked the Impala. The trash, the graffiti, was all new. And the Impala was gone.

.

Sam was half asleep, drifting, when a sharp intake of breath from the bed beside him brought him fully awake.

“Alec?”

Dark lashes shivered, lifted slowly from the too pale cheeks of the transgenic on the bed.

“Don’t try and move.” Sam said swiftly, laying a calming hand on the bare chest in front of him. Green eyes widened in horror as a questing hand felt at the neck brace.

“It’s okay.” Sam smiled, using every trick he knew to reassure the man lying on the bed. “You’re safe now. No-one’s gonna hurt you.”

There was no recognition on a face that was a young version of Dean’s, just abject fear as the eyes moved swiftly from side to side, taking in the white walls of the clinic.

“It’s not Manticore.” Sam guessed at the reason for the reaction. The eyes turned to him, eyelids already sliding closed as the X5 lost his battle for consciousness.

“Not Manticore. You’re safe.” The words fell into the quiet room; whether they helped or not Sam couldn’t guess, his eyes tracking the slow slide of a tear down the side of the familiar face.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and your comments. I always appreciate them so much.  
> : )


	31. Chapter 31

Alec twisted instinctively in mid-air, his movements a blur as he straightened himself so that he hit the foliage boots first, exposing the smallest surface area possible to the inevitable impact of branches. A split second later he crashed into the treetops, breaking straight through the thin limbs at the top of the trees and then bouncing, twisting, scraping until he came to a halt with a bone-jarring jerk, his boots swinging a few feet above the leaf litter as he hung from the stubby end of a broken branch by his cable-tied wrists. Before he could think about how much everything hurt, he swung his legs up and wrapped them around the tree trunk, took the weight off his wrists and pulled himself loose from the branch.

A quick look around, then he dropped cat-like to the floor and blurred away through the trees, away from the heavy beat of the helicopter’s rotors as it circled the area where he’d fallen.

.

Alec stared at the rusted road sign. Twenty miles outside Seattle.

“Sonofabitch!”

The now familiar words rolled off his tongue in a satisfactory way. He wasn’t sure where this additional colloquial vocabulary had come from, perhaps some half-forgotten training package of Manticore’s, but it was strangely comforting nonetheless.

He was sore, scraped, bruised, blood-stained, but surprisingly intact considering he’d fallen out of a helicopter. Nothing that wasn’t already starting to heal, although the deep incisions around each wrist would take a few days for even a transgenic to fix. It was amazing the cable ties hadn’t severed the arteries in his wrists when he’d come to that muscle-tearing halt on the tree branch.

He fingered the blood-encrusted lump on his head, even the light touch of his fingertips making him feel nauseous, and hoped the agent in the helicopter had been the one responsible for the vile headache currently slamming around in his skull.

“Well,” he muttered to himself in a sarcastic tone as he pulled his hoodie up over his mussed-up hair. “This has been a fun day.”

He stuck out a thumb hopefully at a pick-up truck travelling in the direction of Seattle. It veered around him with a scattering of small stones and picked up speed.

“No,” said Alec calmly. “I don’t blame you for that carefully considered decision, even though it sucks. I wouldn’t pick me up either.”

He chose the side of the road closest to the bushes, just in case he had to dive for cover, and started the trek back to Terminal City.

.

Dean steadied himself, one palm against the coarse brickwork, crumbs of mortar embedding themselves in his fingertips. Footsteps were approaching and his hunter’s senses told him they didn’t belong to anyone he wanted to meet. A voice drifted around the corner of the building.

“…no-one else here!”

“I tell you, there was! I saw him!”

Dean reversed along the wall, gaze fixed on the corner as he retreated slowly into the shadows. A box caught at his feet and he staggered, his usual grace eroded by the spread of infection and the sickness caused by his passage across time and space. He’d taken a couple of stumbling steps, trying to right himself, when a strong hand took hold of his upper arm and hauled him backwards at speed.

“Watch out there! You’re leadin’ ‘em right to us.”

Dean found himself inside a dark doorway, then he was turned and thrust towards an opening in the floor. Too dizzy to keep his feet, he half-fell down the shaft and ended up face down in what smelled like a sewer side-tunnel.

The light from above was cut off abruptly as a cover dropped into place over Dean’s head. Boots landed next to his face and a hand took hold of his right shoulder, pulling upwards and rolling him over onto his back. He bit off the involuntary groan of pain as he rolled over his wounded left shoulder. A scaly face, partly illuminated by light filtering up the tunnel, swam in the fog over his eyesight.

“You ain’t looking too good there, pretty boy.”

“Right back atcha.”

The scaled man snorted. “Well that hurts.” He leaned forwards in the dim light and sniffed, going suddenly still as he muttered to himself. “Well, what’s Mole gone and caught himself. ‘Cause you ain’t 494.”

His hands began to pat their way down over Dean’s body, checking for weapons. Dean struck out, knowing it was weak and slow.

“Gerroff me you freak!”

A grim smile pulled at Mole’s face as he took hold of Dean’s injured shoulder and tightened his fingers. Dean clamped his teeth together, breathing through his nose, fighting to stay conscious as the tunnel faded, going grey and quiet.

“…is gonna want to meet you.” Sound, distant white light and cold air came back with a rush with the words. Mole eyed him with distaste as he put Dean’s weapons into his belt pouch.

Dean gagged, coughed, gagged again and found himself tugged upright.

“Get movin’. You’re no civilian.”

Dean staggered, almost fell, steered forwards by a firm grip on his upper arm. “494,” he thought. “Alec.”

The words were enough to keep him moving.

.

The doctor stepped back with a sigh. He indicated the newly replaced dressing.

“I’ve done what I can. Pre-pulse, he’d be in the hospital for a lengthy spell with the knee alone.” He grimaced at the neck brace. “As for that, how he’s not dead I dunno. The x-rays, well, they showed his neck was near as damnit snapped. Now, seems to be healin’ of its own accord. Never seen the like. Next thing you’ll be tellin’ me he’s one of them super-enhanced creations from Terminal City.” A steely gaze from tired brown eyes met Sam’s own. “If he was, I’d just as soon not know.”

Sam thanked him again and told him they must be moving on. The doctor nodded and reminded him there was no telling yet what damage the injury had caused mentally, after all having to be resuscitated after sustaining a broken neck was no small matter.

“You paid me well,” he said quietly. “Cash like that’s hard to come by these days. I’ll bring the ambulance round, drop you where you wanna go. Then, far as I’m concerned, we never met.”

He left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“You hear that, Alec?” Sam forced a bright smile onto his weary face as he addressed the unconscious transgenic. “We’re getting out of here.”

.

A low hum rose from the watching transgenics. Max held up a hand for silence.

“It’s Alec!” Jem insisted, her eyes fixed on the staggering figure being marched towards them.

“That’s not Alec.” Max’s voice was shaking.

The man with Mole stopped and raised his head, looked at them with Alec’s green eyes set in Alec’s face.

“Then who is it?” Jem whispered, her eyes wide.

“Well it ain’t Alec, and it ain’t that crazy twin of his, ‘cause he’s dead, it’s gotta be some kinda set-up.” Mole pushed the man forwards, shrugging his weapon into a familiar place, with the business end pointing at the imposter.

“Stay right there.”

The man stared at the mixed crowd before him, his expression confused. The waiting transgenics could smell the putrid smell of an infected wound from several feet away.

“Alec? Is Alec here?” The man moved slowly towards them, not seeming to notice or care about Mole’s command. His voice was a deeper tone than the X5’s and Max frowned, wondering if this was another earlier experiment of Sandeman.

Mole stepped forwards aggressively just as the man went down to his knees and slowly collapsed onto his side. His finger tightened on the trigger and then the gun was gone, swept out of his hands as a blur of rage hit him from the side. Mole fell, rolled, turned to see what had attacked him and found himself facing a furious X5. Alec. An Alec with a feral snarl on his face as he stood over the prostrate man.

“Stay away from him.”

Mole gawped, astounded at the same time as the thought crossed his mind that he hadn’t seen Alec look so animated in months.

“He’s mine,” Alec snarled, staring them all down. He seemed suddenly to realize what he’d said and amended it quickly. “He’s with me.”

“Alec?” Max’s voice was uncharacteristically unsure, her face white with shock.

Alec blinked, seemed to become aware of his stance; he stepped clear of the man, noticeably uncaring that the stranger was getting unsteadily to his feet behind him.

“It’s not Ben.” Alec read the unspoken question on Max’s face. He turned slowly to face the other man. They were really alike, Max thought, almost identical, although the stranger seemed a little older.

Dean steadied himself against the wall. A sense of intense relief washed over him as his eyes drank in the transgenic before him.

He shut his eyes for a moment, took a calming breath and then looked straight into the eyes of his mirror image. “Alec. Hey buddy, you okay?”

The compassion in the question was unmistakable. Alec found he was shaking, his teeth knocking together, lip trembling as suddenly he remembered everything. He dragged in a deep breath and stepped forwards into the grip of the man he thought of as his older brother.

Max stared, amazed, as Alec hung onto the other man, allowed and accepted the soothing back rub and the firm hold.

“Dean,” he whispered. “Dean.”

“Yeah man, I gotcha.”

Alec’s eyes filled with tears, the darkness lifting from his soul as he dropped his face into his brother’s shoulder and hung on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with the story. Love to hear from you.
> 
> Thanks reviewers… you keep me going. : )


	32. Chapter 32

    

 

For a moment or two, Alec just hung on, a maelstrom of memories taking his breath away. The terrible burden of unexplainable grief he’d labored under since he’d been ill suddenly made sense. The dark depression that had settled over him had been his body’s reaction to something his conscious mind couldn’t remember…the loss of a family.

He became aware of the smell of infection at the same time as he realized his older brother was shaking, a continuous fine vibration accompanied by a steadily increasing weight as the embrace turned from someone giving affection to someone needing support.

Alec, too close to see what was wrong, stepped back half a pace, his hands keeping hold of Dean’s upper arms. His brother hissed, shut his eyes, wilting a little as Alec’s grip neared his left shoulder.

“Dean? Are you hurt?”

He already knew the answer, could smell the pus, remembered with a pang how ill he’d been himself after travelling, without an injury to make things worse.

Dean’s eyelids opened halfway and he attempted a wink at his clone. “Been better. You got a decent First Aid kit in this dump. Jo must’ve left some crap in my shoulder.”

Alec had heard the brothers talk of a Jo Harvelle. He wondered if it was the same Jo, but dismissed the thought. Whoever she was, she wasn’t here and Dean needed help.

“What happened?”

The muscle along Dean’s jaw rippled, his features falling into uncomfortable lines as he dropped his gaze. “Took a bullet.”

“You can fill me in later,” said Alec quietly, tamping down the instant flare of rage. “Right now you’re going to the Med Centre.”

Dean nodded and swayed, his eyes losing their focus. “Med Centre,” he mumbled. “Betta be close dude.” He allowed Alec to throw an arm around his waist and help him along, but they’d only gone a few steps when Dean gave a tired little sigh; he stumbled, then stumbled again and went limp in Alec’s grip.

Max, still frozen with astonishment, felt herself pushed aside. It was Joshua.

“Why is Little Fella not helping?” He frowned at her with a puzzled expression. “This is other Alec.”

The “other Alec”, the splash of emerald green and worn-leather brown in the middle of Joshua’s painting. The “other Alec” next to Alec’s hidden “pretty colors”. It seemed the “other Alec” was now in Terminal City and the original Alec looked as though he was going to explode if someone didn’t help soon. She stepped forwards but it was already too late. The limp figure was scooped out of the X5’s grip and Joshua hastened in the direction of the Med Centre, Alec stalking after him like a big cat guarding its prey, casting murderous glances at anyone who came too near.

.

The transgenic startled awake, going from restless unconsciousness to fearful consciousness in a fraction of a second. His eyes roved the room frantically, as they had on every occasion he’d awoken since the ambulance left them at the small cabin.

Sam approached slowly, making soothing noises and holding his hands out at his sides, palm upwards, in a universal gesture of peace.

“It’s okay, Alec.” Sam smiled, keeping his face relaxed and calm. “No-one is gonna hurt you. This isn’t Manticore.”

The man on the bed was rigid with terror, the drumming of his heart visible through the thin t-shirt stretched across his chest. Sam sat down on the upturned oil drum next to the wooden cot and let the back of his hand rest against the trembling arm.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. We’re safe here.”

This time, unlike the previous occasions, unconsciousness did not return. Baleful green eyes glared at Sam, a minute ripple of movement flowing down the recumbent form as limbs and extremities were tested.

“Try not to move,” Sam cautioned. “I know you heal quick, but you really screwed up your knee.” The warning came too late, shock flaring the transgenic’s pupils wide as he flexed his knee joint.

Perhaps it was the genuine wince and the sympathy on Sam’s face, perhaps it was the dull interior of the wooden cabin, so different from Manticore’s labs, perhaps it was just pain and exhaustion, but something seemed to get through the barrier of fear and control.

“Are you a ‘nomaly?” The voice was raw, forcing its way through the damaged throat.

“Huh?” Sam’s brain raced, remembering the stories Alec told them about Manticore. “No. I’m not an anomaly. I’m Sam, remember? I’m Sam and you’re Alec.”

“’M not an Alec.” The man swallowed, spoke again, his voice stronger now. “I’m an X5. I’m Ben.”

Sam’s gut flip-flopped. Brain damage. Too long without oxygen and you get brain damage. He fought the urge to hug his little brother and settled for dropping his hand over the pale fingers on the blanket. “Okay,” he said, unconsciously projecting every bit of the considerable armory of empathy Sam Winchester had at his disposal. “Don’t worry about anything kiddo. You try and get some sleep and we’ll talk later, when you’re feeling stronger.”

The fingers moved under his, then stilled, as though they were about to escape and then decided against it.

“I’ll be right here,” said Sam, wrapping the warmth of his larger hand around the one so like his big brother’s. “Right here.”

.

“He’ll be okay.” Max stood her ground outside the partitioned off cubicle that served as an operating room, meeting Alec’s scowl with a mild expression. “He’ll be okay,” she repeated. “They know what they’re doing.”

“Yeah,” said Alec bitterly. “They’re Manticore trained, I know. Thing is though Maxie, he’s human, and we don’t get many of those around here apart from virus-boy, if you hadn’t noticed?”

Max’s lip curled, annoyance widening her eyes. “Don’t bust my chops. Anyway, it’s you I’m worried about.”

Alec looked taken aback. “Me? I’m fine. A hundred percent perfect specimen, just like always.”

“No, you’re not. You’re hurting.” Max took a tentative step forwards, wiped a trickle of blood from Alec’s eyebrow with one small finger, wishing it was as easy to wipe away the anxiety tearing at the man in front of her. “What happened?”

Alec blinked, seeming to take in her concern properly for the first time.

“White. White happened. His goons set off some kinda explosion outside the entrance and snatched me.” He ran a hand through his hair, frowning. There’d been no sign of an explosion when he’d returned… Dean, he realized, it must’ve been Dean arriving.

Max caught hold of his forearm with a hiss, forcing it back down and pulling aside his cuff in a swift motion to reveal the deep gashes around his wrists.

“You need these looking at!”

“I’m fine. I heal remember, just like you, all thanks to Manticore’s little enhancements.”

“Sit down!” A familiar sting was back in Max’s tone. To her surprise, Alec subsided without further argument, folding himself onto a vacant cot with an injured look in his eyes. She ground her teeth in irritation, hating the surge of sympathy caused by the wide-eyed look.

It was time to focus on practicalities, not on feeling sorry for a smart-mouthed fellow X5 who’d been like a bear with a sore head for months. She fetched a few supplies from a store cupboard and set about cleaning and dressing Alec’s wrists.

“So, what did White want? Apart from your head?”

Alec shrugged, wincing a little as the movement jarred his shoulders. “I dunno. Didn’t stay around to find out.” He glanced at her quickly, reading in her eyes that the explanation wasn’t enough. “I declined a helicopter ride, ran a while, snagged a car. And here I am.”

Max huffed, fingering the tears in his clothing, the swiftly healing gashes on his face. “You did this turning down a helicopter ride?”

“Yeah,” Alec smirked. “Well it was kinda flying at the time.”

She didn’t know whether to hug him or slap him.

.

The big man with long hair was asleep, his neck canted awkwardly against the wall. Ben carefully slid his hand out from under the warm fingers and felt slowly around the brace on his neck. A tiny movement of his head told him the vertebrae were knitting together; soon the brace would be able to come off. His knee, though, was on fire, throbbing angrily as the growing bones bonded with the metal pins inside the joint. He wasn’t moving fast any time soon.

It was quiet in the cabin. Enhanced senses told him nothing bigger than small wildlife was moving for miles around. It felt safe, safer than Ben had felt in a long time and at least part of that was due to the large anomaly sitting beside him.

He considered the man carefully, not sure why the ‘nomaly made him feel safe but finally pinning it down to his scent. Similar to his own, but subtly different. Maybe he was a donor for one of his brothers or sisters?

He forced himself to relax. Max was gone, thought him dead. The Blue Lady had abandoned him, left him to die in the woods. This man hadn’t hurt him so far and every minute that passed Ben was getting stronger. Soon he could leave and no-one would be able to stop him.

.

Dean muttered in a feverish sleep, sweat beading at the roots of his hair and running down to soak the pillow, creating a darker patch around his head. Alec re-dipped the cloth in cold water, something he’d been doing throughout the night, and laid it back over his brother’s forehead.

The bullet wound, cleaned properly and aided in its healing by a pint of Alec’s blood, was beginning to knit together already. The fever seemed unrelated and brought back hazy memories to Alec of staggering through a dark alleyway towards a cemetery, burning up and too weak to even remove his jacket. It seemed transgenic blood, your own or someone else’s, was no defense against travel between one universe and the other.

Some hours later, a heavy tread in the corridor broke through Alec’s heavy fog of fatigue and alerted him to Mole’s presence. The large transgenic paused in the doorway, chewing on his unlit cigar, an uncharacteristic lack of confidence in his stance.

Alec found himself on his feet, unconsciously in a defensive stance between the intruder and the man on the bed. Mole broke the awkward silence.

“How’s he doin?”

“Been better.”

Mole shifted, uncomfortable, moved the cigar to the other side of his mouth. “Didn’t know he meant somethin’ to ya.”

Alec narrowed his eyes to venomous green slits. “Didn’t notice anythin’ familiar about him then?” The corner of his lip rose as sarcasm gave a bite to his tone. “Like he might be, oh I dunno, family perhaps?”

Mole stared at him, expressionless. “You all look the same to me pretty boy.” He turned on his heel with a squeak of rubber and then paused, looking back over his shoulder. “You got family already.” And he was gone.

“Alec?” Alec spun around to find Dean watching him with tired eyes. He frowned as Alec’s hand tested his forehead but bit back his instinctive retort as an expression of relief crossed the younger man’s face.

“Your temperature is down.”

“Yeah, dude. I’m just tired.” Dean gave him a ghost of a grin, permitted the changing of his pillow for a fresh one and settled back with a yawn. He flexed his shoulder experimentally. “That blood of yours is awesome.”

Alec stared at him, suddenly lost for words and unutterably weary.   Dean winked at him.

“I’m gonna sleep. Sit down before you fall down.”

Alec stayed there, unblinking and swaying with exhaustion, until Dean’s breathing evened out in sleep, then he cast a glance at the doorway wishing, not for the first time, that there was actually a door attached. Eventually, almost collapsing, he scooted up on the cot between Dean and the open doorway, putting his back to his brother’s side and taking care not to jar his shoulder. Seconds later he was asleep, missing altogether the small quirk of amusement that pulled at the side of his brother’s mouth.

.

The play of sunlight through leaves spilled through the window and startled Sam awake. He jerked upright, catching at his stiff neck with a subdued curse.

The man on the cot was watching him through narrowed eyes. Perhaps it was because he was in shadow or maybe it was just because Sam was still half asleep, but it seemed there was a darkness about him. Sam shivered involuntarily, seeing the same expression in his memory, on the features of a shapeshifter wearing his brother’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’re still coming back to read – that makes me very happy!
> 
> Thanks so much for the comments and kudos : )


	33. Chapter 33

 

 

Sam tipped the contents of the last can of soup into the small, battered pan. The liquid was thin, more gruel than soup, a thin layer of grease rising to the surface as it began to steam in the cool air. They desperately needed supplies, but the thought of leaving an increasingly difficult Alec, or Ben, as he now liked to be known, was not an attractive one. Sam couldn't be sure the younger man would still be there when he returned, however immobile he appeared to be.

A sharp snapping sound behind him attracted his attention and he turned wearily, wondering what was going on.

"A…Ben, don't… hey man don't do that!"

It was too late. The transgenic scowled at him, dropping the neck brace onto the floor.

"I'm Ben. Not a Ben."

"What? Oh." Sam felt flustered, as he did on too many occasions when he was faced with the unblinking stare of the younger man. He rubbed his palm nervously down his pants leg and tried again. "Look buddy, you need the neck brace. Your neck was broken."

"Well," said Ben calmly. "Now it's not broken. So I don't need the brace and you can stop bitching."

A flood of irritation grounded Sam and swept away his nervousness. "It's _your_ neck, snap it again if you want, you douchewad!" he snapped, resorting to a Deanism and returning the scowl.

Ben ignored him. He shuffled around on his ass until his left leg dangled off the bed. Cautiously he placed his foot on the floor and then began to move his right leg in small increments, assisting it with both hands.

"Ben, don't." Sam watched him with concern, noting how the younger man's face remained impassive even as beads of sweat gathered on his forehead and upper lip. "You're not ready yet," he added quietly, trying to break through the wall of concentration.

The muscle along Ben's jaw flickered as he gritted his teeth and lifted his right leg off the bed, allowing the knee to bend as the foot slid towards the floor.

Sam, already a step closer, was ready, judging the moment when the paleness of Ben's face went from white to something almost translucent. The transgenic shuddered, his face twisting involuntarily. Sam caught him as he slipped forwards, suddenly limp, his head lolling into Sam's chest.

"Shit." The word spilled from Sam's lips, a sharp acknowledgement of witnessed pain.

Ben struggled weakly, his forehead butting Sam's collarbone.

"Quit fighting!" Sam struggled to hold him, trying to hoist him upwards even as Ben's body continued to slip towards the floor. "Dammit! HOLD STILL!"

Ben froze, his eyes suddenly wide as he raised his head to look at Sam's irate face. The cessation of movement allowed Sam to lift him, deposit him on the bed in a sitting position.

"Stay put!"

Wide, unblinking eyes stared back at him, freckles suddenly pronounced on the pale skin.

"Sorry, Sir." It was barely more than a whisper, but it had the power to shock Sam to the core. He patted Ben's shoulder awkwardly.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. I thought you were going to fall there." Sam glanced down at the knee, saw a fresh bloom of red on the dressing. "We need to move, but we can't leave 'til your knee is up to it."

"I can go now."

Startled, Sam tore his gaze away from the dressing and met Ben's green eyes. A new, earnest expression pulled the younger man's features into something so closely resembling a teenage Dean that Sam's heart stuttered. _'Dean, where are you man? Are you even alive?'_

"I'm a good soldier, Sir. I can go now."

Jerked back to the present, Sam stared at the transgenic. "You're not a soldier any more. Remember? You're free now." He took a deep breath. "And you don't have to call me Sir. I'm Sam, just Sam." He brushed his hair away from his forehead, sighing. "Just sit, okay? I'm getting the soup. We'll eat, then I'm gonna have a look at your dressing."

Ben sat and stared at him without a word. Sam just wished that he'd blink.

.

They were both asleep, Max thought, arriving on silent feet in the doorway. The older one, Dean, half-sitting, propped up by pillows, one hand on his own abdomen, the other arm draped loosely over the figure stretched out by his side. Alec, his back pressed against his brother's side, his boots dangling over the end of the bed. Dean, the pallor of sickness still in his skin, cheeks dark with stubble as Alec's never would be. Alec, more vulnerable than she'd seen him since Rachel's bedside. It did something to her chest, squeezing it with fingers of emotion she wasn't used to experiencing.

' _His brother'_ , she thought. It was easy to think of the older man as Alec's brother, although she knew it couldn't be the case. His donor then. Closer than a brother genetically, but she could see how the relationship would develop that way, from both sides.

She flushed, suddenly aware that Dean was watching her with an amused expression on his face. Her scowl didn't seem to unnerve him, causing a flicker of a smile instead.

"You're Max." Spoken quietly, but at a lower pitch, a distinctive timbre, compared to Alec. Would Alec sound the same in a few more years? It was uncanny, their similarity and their differences; it was like a glimpse into the future.

Alec stirred, was soothed immediately and instinctively with a small movement of Dean's hand against his arm. Max nodded, unwilling to wake her fellow X5, who'd looked as though he was about to collapse with exhaustion the last time she'd seen him.

Dean seemed to read the concern she had unwittingly shown on her face. "He's okay, just needs to sleep."

She nodded again and was about to leave when he gestured with his free hand at the bottle of water on the far side of his clone and raised an eyebrow.

Max ghosted across the room and passed the bottle over, registering the cooler temperature of his fingers against her own.

"Thanks sweetheart."

He flicked the cap loose with his thumb and drank deeply. He'd been thirsty a while, she thought, but hadn't wanted to wake the younger man. She flicked a glance down to Alec, all long dark lashes and pale cheeks, no trace of cockiness or bravado on his face now as it relaxed in sleep. ' _Manticore sure make 'em pretty'_. Someone else's words, passing unexpectedly through her mind.

She stepped away, suddenly uncharacteristically unsure of herself and looked up to meet Dean's gaze. Something in his eyes told her he was amused; she frowned immediately in response but received a cheeky grin and a wink in response.

"Be seeing ya, Maxie." The smirk was almost identical to Alec's and equally as irritating.

"It's Max," she hissed, turning on her heel with a small squeak of rubber and almost blurring to the door. Her enhanced hearing could make out his chuckle from the far end of the hallway.

.

The pan of soup wobbled in Ben's hand. He paused, the spoon in his other hand, eyeing Sam suspiciously. "Where's yours?"

"I already ate," said Sam, not wanting to get into a debate about soup.

Ben set the pan down on the blanket and scowled at him. "No, you didn't. My knee is injured; I'm not mentally impaired." He thrust the spoon at Sam. "We share."

"You need it more than me," Sam attempted.

"I need you to get out of here," stated Ben in an emotionless tone. "So we share."

"Well," said Sam, eyeing him in an unfriendly way as he took the spoon. "If you're gonna put it that way…"

.

Mole found himself drawn back again. He told himself it was to make sure the intruder was secure, didn't want to admit even to himself he was concerned about the X5 he'd come to consider as a friend. Damn it, more than a friend; Alec was family.

He stopped short in the doorway, narrowing his eyes at the man glowering at him over Alec's recumbent form.

"Whaddya want, Klingon boy?"

Mole growled, chewed harder than he'd intended on his soggy cigar and spat some tobacco shreds out of the corner of his mouth.

"If I had my way, punk-ass, you'd be six feet deep now."

He took a couple of steps forwards, trying to see if Alec was alright. The man, Dean, tensed; Mole got a distinct impression that if he took another step the human would be at his throat, injured or not. He peered at Alec, trying to get a clear view of his face. He looked relaxed enough, but it wasn't like the X5 to be sleeping when there was a threat, perhaps he was unconscious. Mole growled again, uneasy.

"You got some stomach problems there lizard man? 'Cause if you need to take a crap, you can take it outside."

Mole was about to hit him when Alec stirred, responding to the threat in the atmosphere despite his exhaustion. The human's attention was diverted immediately, his expression softening as he quieted the transgenic with a murmured word and a pat of his hand. To Mole's surprise, Alec mumbled, cracked an eye open and settled back to sleep.

Mole realized his mouth was hanging open and made a belated grab at the cigar as it peeled away from his lip.

"He okay?" he blurted, surprising himself.

Dean looked at him, considering. "'M not gonna hurt him," he said eventually. "He's family."

Family. There was that word again. Mole nodded and left, surprised how much a single word could hurt.

.

When he replaced the dressing, it was clear that Ben's knee had healed more than Sam expected, but even so their trek away from the cabin was a painfully slow affair. How the transgenic remained upright was a mystery to him. Even with the aid of a makeshift crutch and an arm slung around Sam's neck the transgenic was clearly in terrible pain. Time and again he nearly went down, his eyes rolling as he fought the drag of unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry," said Sam helplessly, using his body weight to hold the half-conscious X5 upright against a tree.

"'S'okay," whispered Ben, the half-light under the canopy of leaves painting the dark shadows under his eyes even deeper against the stark pallor of his skin. He didn't have much more left in him, Sam thought. They needed to find food and rest soon.

The sound of voices interrupted his worrying; he half dragged Ben a little further down the trail and propped him against a large rock before moving forwards cautiously and peering through a thin screen of bushes onto a road a few feet below them. An old car was pulled over on the side of the road, a man and two children loading logs into the trunk.

"We need that car." Ben was behind him, swaying on his crutch, pain making grooves in his face.

"I'll ask for a lift," Sam said, feeling hopeless. Why would a stranger give a lift to two unknown men, one of them clearly injured?

"I can take them from here." The voice that belonged to Alec spoke words he would never have said.

"Take them?" Sam could hear the confusion in his own voice.

"I'll kill the old man. You knock the kids out or kill 'em or something." Ben didn't look like he cared either way.

"Are you insane?" Sam hissed, angry. Ben's face was belligerent, unrepentant.

"We need that car," he repeated stubbornly.

"Well we're not killing anyone for it. Not anyone, you understand me." Sam eyed him with distrust, then remembered the transgenic's response to an authoritive voice.

"Stand down soldier. Y'hear me? Stand down. I'll deal with this."

Ben blinked at him and nodded, letting himself slide down to a sitting position on the rock.

"Yessir," he muttered, not looking happy, but not arguing either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for those messages and kudos. They keep me scribbling. :)
> 
> Hope you're all enjoying the story.


	34. Chapter 34

 

"You see…" Sam pushed his hair back from his forehead, sub-consciously trying to appear tidier, more respectable. "We could really use a ride to town." He looked anxiously at the man. "I can pay."

Brown eyes regarded him, considering, as the man tugged at a log of wood, settling it more securely in the open trunk. "There's two of you, y'say?"

"Yeah. My…brother. He's hurt his knee. I left him up top." Sam gestured at the screen of bushes on top of the slope.

The man slammed the trunk lid and sighed. "Well son, cash is a good persuader. Go fetch your brother and we'll get on the road." He flapped a hand at the two small boys. "Set in the front, outta the way."

Sam gabbled his thanks and jogged back up the bank, eager to get Ben into the car before the stranger changed his mind. The transgenic was waiting for him, his expression leaving Sam in no doubt that although he was obeying orders, for now, he wasn't happy about the situation.

"It would've been quicker to terminate them," he noted in a sullen tone.

"There's not gonna be any terminating!" Irritated, Sam hauled him onto his feet, getting a small, guilty twinge of satisfaction when the younger man's lips drew back in an involuntary grimace. "C'mon, before he changes his mind."

The slope was short but steep and extremely slippery; by the time they reached the bottom Ben's eyes were wide and shocked, moss green in the dappled light under the leaves.

"C'mon," Sam repeated in a kinder tone, wishing the younger man didn't look so much like Dean. It was hard to stay angry at him when it was Dean's face sweating in pain and Dean's arm shaking under his hand.

The man was suddenly beside them, taking hold of Ben's other arm. "Lemme give you a hand there, sonny." He peered at Ben's face and winced in sympathy. "Leg hurts some, huh? Let's get you in the car." He opened the rear door and gestured inside.

Sam realized with surprise that the transgenic was leaning into him, not only for support but to get as far away from the stranger as possible. He maneuvered himself into the cramped back seat, hauling Ben after him, all the time conscious of the curious stares of the young boys from the front seat. Ben manfully ground his teeth and dragged his injured leg inside the vehicle, ending up slumped against Sam's side. He was shaking uncontrollably, his face the color of old putty. Sam put an arm around him, finding the younger man's distress hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

The engine roared and clattered into riotous life, effectively preventing any conversation with the other occupants of the vehicle as they jolted down the unkept track. Ben shuddered, his body quivering against Sam's torso as he gripped at his injured leg above the knee and Sam ducked down, trying to get a measure of his torment from his expression. To his dismay, he saw that the transgenic's teeth had sunk into his bottom lip far enough to draw blood.

"Ben?"

There was something wild in the younger man's eyes, something desperate about the set of his jaw. Ben was visibly unravelling before his eyes, the amazing transgenic ability to deal with pain shredding away like smoke in a strong wind. Not now, Sam thought, not here. He pulled Ben closer, trying to cushion him against the impact of the bumps, murmuring reassurance into his ear almost as though he was a kid.

"Easy, try and relax. Shhh. C'mon, you can do it. You're the tough guy, remember, 494?"

"No." The whisper was forced through bitten lips. "493. I'm X5-493."

Sam's heart jumped, raced, jumped again. 493. Not Alec. He cursed under his breath. Of course it wasn't Alec. It had never been Alec. But one thing was for sure, Ben was Dean's clone.

.

Alec came up to the surface slowly, easily, his eyes half way open before he realized he was in the clinic. He shot upright immediately and turned to the sound of a soft chuckle behind him.

"Well hey there, sleeping beauty."

Dean. Fully dressed, smirking and leaning against the window frame with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.

Alec swung his feet to the floor, remembered he'd crashed out on Dean's bed and flushed, suddenly awkward, running his hand through his already crazily mussed-up hair to try and cover up his embarrassment.

"Good thing you're awake," said his brother drily. "You've had some weird ass visitors. I didn't know whether to gank 'em or shake their hands…" He paused, frowning. "Not sure all of 'em had hands."

"Guess they wanted to see for themselves how perfection can be made from something mediocre," said Alec with a sassy smirk as he blurred across the room and swiped the coffee from Dean's grasp. He took an appreciative slurp, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "This is the real deal! Do you know how rare this is in Terminal City! Where'd you get it?"

"Get your own," said Dean without rancour, deftly removing the mug from Alec's hand. "Some big furry dude fetched it." He regarded Alec over the top of the mug, a serious expression settling on his face.

"Is there somethin' I should know about here, 'cause everyone comes by seems to look at you like you might break."

Alec was wondering how to answer without answering at all, when Joshua loomed in the doorway.

“Medium fella is awake.” His happy boom filled the small room and Dean dodged out of the way, keeping a wary eye on proceedings as his surprised clone was enfolded in a huge hug.

.

The man rubbed the dollars between his thumb and forefinger and handed half back to Sam, waving off his protest.

"Your brother's real sick. Was a time, pre-pulse, I wouldn't have took money for giving a sick man a ride to town, but now…" He motioned at the children in the front seat.

Sam thanked him, gripped his hand with vigor and took a more secure hold of Ben's arm as he turned towards the small pharmacy. Ben went along with him, looking dazed, all belligerence forgotten in his struggle to remain upright. They settled into a slow, halting rhythm that would've taken them to the door if Ben hadn't come to a sudden halt. Off balance, Sam teetered between one step and the next and turned to the transgenic with a questioning frown.

Ben ignored him, his face stricken as he stared at the battered brick façade of the church on the far side of the road.

"Ben?"

"She doesn't want me anymore."

"What? Who doesn't want you?" Sam's forehead crumpled in confusion.

"The Blue Lady." Ben pulled away from his grip with unexpected strength, lurching on his make-shift crutch in the direction of the church and muttering something half under his breath about failing in his mission.

He was rambling, Sam thought, hurrying after him and catching the heavy door as the transgenic blundered through it into the dimly lit interior. The church was empty, all dusty pews and a lingering smell of incense.

"Please…" Ben's whisper was plaintive and thready.

Sam realized the younger man had stopped in front of a damaged stained glass window depicting the Virgin Mary. He fumbled in his pocket and then reached out with a shaking hand; something rattled onto the stone shelf beneath the window.

"I'll try harder…get more…"

The urgency of the plea seemed to use up the last of Ben's reserves and he sagged backwards. Sam caught him and steered him onto a pew, supporting him there with one palm against his chest as he peered up at the shelf with puzzled eyes. Three adult-sized, blood stained teeth and another still attached to a piece of jawbone were scattered across the stone.

Sam found himself sitting on the hard wood of the pew, his mind racing and his arms automatically locked around the half-conscious man beside him.

"Ben," he said helplessly. "What did you do?"

.

Joshua pumped Dean’s hand heartily, causing coffee to slop everywhere and Dean’s eyes to go wide with surprise and then crinkle around the edges when he remembered Alec had compared Sam to the large canine transgenic.

Sam. And suddenly it was as though the bottom had dropped out of Dean’s gut, because his little brother was a whole universe away and now there was no way to tell him that Dean forgave him, that there’d never been anything to forgive because Sam couldn’t help being possessed by a demon.

Alec must have read something on his face; perhaps it was a particular expression Dean reserved for worrying about Sam without even knowing, because Alec just came straight out with it.

“Where’s Sam?”

Dean’s eyes said everything his face didn’t and Alec was suddenly closer, his cuff brushing against Dean’s arm.

“What? What happened to him?”

There was a note of fear in the question and Dean shook his head, dipping his chin towards his injured shoulder in an unconscious motion that the transgenic did not miss.

“Sam got left behind. He’s okay.”

For now, with that, Alec had to be content, because Joshua was offering food and somewhere for Dean and Alec to stay and it was easier to be carried along with it all than try and talk about the elephant in the room.

.

Whatever it was that'd caused Ben to enter the church, it was enough to drain the few physical reserves he had left.

Sam, gory remains safely stashed in his pocket, half-dragged him out of the church and into the pharmacy. To his disappointment he found that the post-pulse world had little in the way of medicines in general and even less in the way of antibiotics, even for a desperate man with a babbling and semi-conscious younger brother in tow.

One night, he thought, just one night in a motel with hot water and some good food. Then he was going to beg, borrow or steal a car and head into Seattle. What Ben needed, only another transgenic could provide and if the date in the pharmacy window was correct then Alec, and therefore other transgenics, would be found in Seattle.

He set out on foot for the motel. Two blocks seemed like ten before he'd gone a hundred yards and finally he ditched the crutch and hoisted Ben over his shoulder in a fireman's lift made awkward by the need to avoid the injured leg. The transgenic moaned and muttered and finally, thankfully, passed out.

.

“Mac’n’cheese, and creamed corn.”   Joshua waved at the stack of cans and cartons on the work surface. “Big fella is making a feast.”

“You got a lot of food there.” Alec pointed out, slightly surprised that Joshua had managed to accumulate such a large quantity of supplies.

“Mole is giving me extra,” Joshua told him proudly. “For medium fella and his brother and everyone who is coming to see them.”

Dean shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other. His shoulder was nearly healed and the time/space travel sickness was easing off but it was doing nothing to alleviate the headache growing at the back of his eyes. A headache caused by a lack of Sam; a headache that wasn’t going away any time soon because somewhere, some time, Sam was looking for him and worrying and thinking it was all his fault that Dean had disappeared.

Alec read the body language easily and intervened smoothly, suggesting perhaps just one or two people might be a good idea; the food was all dried or canned, so it would save until another day. Dean found himself sitting on a half-stuffed armchair while Joshua and Alec argued in a friendly fashion about who would be struck off Joshua’s mental guest list.

Dean listened, the surreal conversation about a mac’n’cheese dinner party competing with his thoughts that Sam was the man who should be here to deal with dinner parties, except he wasn’t. Joshua’s voice went up a notch. It seemed the problem was the number of chairs, so it was probably a good thing half of Terminal City weren’t invited after all. There was space for Dean, Alec and Joshua, Max and hopefully not Logan (from Alec) and that left one spare seat.

Dean rubbed his aching head and wished he could lie down.

“Alec.”

The transgenic was scowling and grumbling about Logan and Dean remembered that Alec kind of liked Max, so he would by default definitely not be all that crazy about Logan.

“Alec,” he said, louder this time. “Hey!”

They turned to him, startled.

“Dude, calm down.” Dean rubbed his forehead again wearily and stood up. “You gotta have one more? Ask Mole.” He flexed his shoulder in an unconscious gesture, remembering Mole’s fingers driving spikes of agony into his injury and the way the tunnel greyed out before his eyes.

“Mole?” Alec looked surprised, then suddenly pleased in a subtle sort of way. His eyebrows did a dance, moving from surprise to pleasure to puzzlement. “Couldn’t help but notice, you two weren’t on exactly amicable terms last time you met?”

They hadn’t been, Dean agreed. They were still not on friendly terms, he thought privately, but the cigar chewing transgenic had looked like he might spit out the cigar and start chowing down on Dean if Alec was hurt. Then there was the not so small matter of his weapons, last seen tucked into Mole’s clothing.

.

“One night." Sam braced his shoulder against the door frame, wondering how it was possible for it to take so long to find a vacant room in what was clearly a virtually empty motel. Ben's weight dragged at his back muscles and the younger man was starting to stir and mutter again, which was doing nothing to reassure the fraught looking woman on the desk.

"My brother," Sam said wearily. "Too much to drink."

She handed over a key with the sort of look that said she didn't believe a word of it and thought the worst of him.

Sam shivered, wondering what sort of a world it was, where it seemed a man could physically snatch another and walk through town with him over his shoulder, with never a word being said or a cop being called.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so grateful for your comments and encouragement! You do, truly, keep me writing. :)
> 
> 'Rewind to the beginning' has also been updated if you fancy a bit of pure Supernatural. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading.


	35. Chapter 35

 

“So this is Terminal City?” had been answered with “I’ll show you around.” Of course that led to a fair amount of walking and a large number of curious transgenics; a couple of hours later Dean had lost count of the number of people he’d met, although he’d a fairly good idea of the layout of the transgenics’ stronghold.

“You’ve got a good set up here.” He stared across the random collection of roofs and streets from their vantage point underneath Joshua’s flag of freedom, finding himself impressed by the way the refugees had set up home in a way that was both organized and individual, but at the same time feeling uncomfortable at the way people like his little brother were forced to live like rats in a trap.

Alec shrugged, downplaying his own role in the whole affair, as he had throughout the tour. “Mebbe one day we won’t need it.” He flicked a grin at Dean. “But hey, it’s a tricky situation and for now, it’s a whole lot better than nothin’.” He glanced at the white dove on the flag, thinking that, for the first time since the standard had been raised, he felt as though things were looking up.

“C’mon. I dunno about you but I could use some of that coffee and there’s somethin’ down here a car guy’ll be interested in.” He jerked his chin at Dean in a ‘follow me’ gesture and set off for the vehicle maintenance sheds.

.

Sam lowered the transgenic onto one of the beds in the dim motel room and straightened up with a grimace of relief. Ben mumbled at him, eyeing him through half-raised eyelids before rolling carefully onto his side. Within minutes his face was slack as he drifted off into an exhausted sleep. He was fading, Sam thought, wondering at the real cause; it seemed deeper than something just physical.

He watched Ben sleep for a while. It didn’t look as though the younger man was capable of moving far, let alone leaving. It was a good time to buy food and scope out a likely vehicle for the following day, so Sam stretched his back, wincing a little as he took weary steps in the direction of the door. He didn’t know when or where Dean was, but Ben was right there and needed care and he, Sam, could give that care. Then later, when Ben was out of danger, there would be some talking to do. If this was really another clone, it seemed he wasn’t all that much like Alec, apart from his looks.

.

It wasn’t long before Dean’s jacket was hanging off a mirror and he was elbow deep in the 6.6 litre guts of a 1979 Pontiac Firebird Formula.

“It’s a good thing you came by. We don’t have too much experience with the older models.” The aptly named Grease Monkey, in charge of the mechanical repair division, slapped Dean on his back approvingly. Dean gritted his teeth at the impact, but his grin was genuine. The glossy blue Firebird had been found in storage in a locked garage within the parameters of Terminal City and she was a beauty, almost mint condition. Getting her running again was a privilege in his books.

He was so engrossed in his task that he didn’t notice Mole’s arrival at the far side of the workshop. The transgenic supervised the delivery of some spare parts, all the time aware of the easy interaction between Alec’s donor and the mechanics. He was about to leave when a roar and splutter turned into a throaty rumble and announced the coming to life of the Firebird. He nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as he caught Dean’s eye above the excited heads of the mechanics peering under the hood. For a moment they stared at each other, calculating, assessing, and then Mole was gone.

.

When Sam pushed the door open it met with resistance, a solid, fleshy thump against something on the floor. He forced himself through the gap, sharp words jumping to his lips when he saw that it was Ben.

The transgenic beat him to it, rolling his head so he could look up at Sam with betrayed eyes. “You left.”

Sam’s sharp words were swallowed hastily. “I’m not leaving, I told you that. Okay? I got food, that’s all.” Sam raised the paper sack and shook it to demonstrate his point before placing it on the small table. “C’mon, let’s get you back on the bed.”

He hauled Ben upright and manhandled him back onto the lumpy mattress, noting the dark stain spreading around his knee.

“You’re bleeding again,” he said breathlessly. “I thought it was starting to heal?”

Ben was sweating, gnawing at his lower lip, squinting as he concentrated on Sam’s voice. “The doctor,” he asked carefully, between breaths. “What did he do to me?”

Sam explained as well as he could and saw understanding and horror dawn on Ben’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, sharp.

“The metal pins.” The younger man’s head sank back on the grimy pillow. “My bones, they’re trying to grow back, but the pins are in the way.”

Sam stared at him, not really understanding.

“Transgenic bones grow back in their original form.” Ben’s voice was so quiet that Sam had to lean forwards to make out the words. “The pins are shattering the bones…over and over.”

“Oh crap.” Sam’s throat tightened, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. The pain must be unbearable, even for a transgenic. No wonder Ben was fading. “You need to go to the hospital. Those pins have gotta come out. Now.”

“No!” A red stain of distress spread over the pale cheek bones. “I can’t.”

That at least was genetically inherited from Dean, thought Sam with a wry smile. “They can help you there, Ben,” he said persuasively.

“No!” The transgenic was adamant. “They’ll shoot me.”

“What?! Of course they won’t shoot you!”

Green eyes, dark with fear, stared into his own. “Or they’ll send me back to Manticore and they’ll put me with the ‘nomalies; they’re gonna tear me apart to study.” Ben swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his lean throat. “Help me get to the High Place. One step an’ it’ll all be over. Mebbe she’ll want me back then.”

“Who?” Sam heard the catch of stress in his own voice. “The Blue Lady? She wouldn’t want you to do that. And you’re not going back to Manticore; I swear no-one is gonna take you back, not on my watch.”

“Why are you helping me? What do you _want_?” It was Alec’s voice Sam heard, hoarse with pain and fear.

“Why wouldn’t I help you?”

“You don’t get anything for free.” Bitter words. The words of someone who’d had to pay too high a price, too many times, for help in the past.

Sam’s heart stuttered; the face before him so like Dean’s face when he was hurting. It burst out, unbidden. “Because you’re family, that’s why! I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.” _I mean it_ , Sam realized, knowing he was committing himself to someone he really knew nothing about.

“I can’t be your family. I was cooked up in a test tube.” Ben shifted, his distress coming off him in waves that made Sam’s skin tingle.

It was time to take control of the situation. Sam squared his shoulders, laying a solid hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You’re family,” he said firmly. “Now you sit here and drink this protein shake and I’ll tell you about Dean and Alec. Okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but as he turned away to get the shake he didn’t hear any protest either.

.

The candles flickered and smoked, dribbling molten wax down their sides to pool in the bottom of the jelly jars. The smell was heavy and greasy in the air, tugging at Dean’s gag reflex as it mixed with the pungent smell of processed cheese.

He poked the pile of food on his plate with his fork, swallowing against a sudden surge of unwanted saliva. Mac’n’cheese, a staple of their childhood. He couldn’t even begin to guess how many times he’d cooked it up over a single burner in some dilapidated motel room, adding extra butter to make it just the way Sam liked it. Sam. Who wasn’t there, where he should be, next to Dean.

He let the conversation flow over him, chewing slowly, forcing each mouthful down his throat, unwilling to offend Joshua because Joshua was Alec’s friend.

Alec lounged easily in the chair opposite him and it was his voice wrapping around the table, his gestures that stirred the dark yellow of the candle flames and sent the black smoke rising in lazy spirals. At Max’s prompt, Alec was explaining how he’d ended up in another universe and found his donor. He’d been trained by Manticore to be eloquent, to captivate an audience if need be, the perfect cover for an assassin who had to mingle in all levels of society. Dean listened, awed by the smooth delivery, his deeper voice filling in the gaps when Alec pulled him into the story. And all the time it seemed that Alec’s intense gaze kept returning to Max, as though he was tangled in a net cast by her chocolate brown eyes.

Mole was diagonally opposite, his face stern and his posture deliberately a little aggressive. Occasionally he sent quick-fire questions across the candle flames, picking up points about Ames White and any possible threat to Terminal City.

Dean’s jaw slowed, his fork coming to rest on the cold mass on his plate. His shoulder was throbbing, head aching after the long day, his mind drifting in a quiet place of his own making until a sharp note in Alec’s voice snapped him out of it as surely as a bucket of ice-cold water.

Max. Her brows screwed down and her lips pushed out in a pout. “I’m curious, that’s why. How come you bailed? You were that attached, you shoulda stayed there.”

Alec tilted his chair back, bracing a boot against the table leg. He ducked his chin, eyes catching the fire of the candle flames as he looked up from under his lashes. “Yeah,” he said easily with a little shrug of his shoulders. “Mebbe I should’ve.”

Dean’s head came up, his chair scraping beneath him at the sudden movement. Irritation scratched at his skin, his eyes caught by the motion of Alec’s fingertips as he worried at the knee of his jeans. “Hey Alec,” he drawled. “Sounds like Maxie here was getting all bitter and twisted about you not being around.”

“What?!” She spun to face him, face flushing dark under her olive skin. “I’m not gonna get all rotated about some smart-ass being outta town for a few days.”

“Huh…” Dean flicked an eyebrow up and nodded slowly, switching his gaze to Alec’s startled face and then back to Max.   “I guess Alec was wasting his time then, coming back to this hell hole for you.” He scowled at the other occupants of the room. “For all of you. ‘Cause he didn’t want to let his friends down.”

Mole’s intervention was unexpected. “We couldn’t have done it without pretty boy here. Everybody knows that.” He jabbed his cigar in Max’s direction. “Max here knows it too.”

“So how come he didn’t say anythin’ about all this before?” Her eyes were angry.

Then Dean stepped in, for Alec’s sake, and broke the habits of a lifetime by talking about losing the memory of someone you viewed as a younger brother. He spoke only to Alec as though it was just the two of them in the room, saw some of the tension drop away from his clone’s forehead as he realized he hadn’t been the only person to forget.

Dean looked around then and told them all how he’d come to be there, at the table, somehow managing to explain he’d come looking for a younger brother without mentioning why or how he’d inexplicably lost another one in the process. He even managed to flirt a little with Max until her face darkened with something that may have been irritation and may have been something else, but his heart wasn’t really in it and he let it drop as soon as Alec began to scowl.

When his voice petered out, Joshua took up the conversation, turning it to Terminal City matters in a simple but effective way that made Dean suspect he was far brighter than his speech patterns suggested.

About the same time as it became physically painful to stay awake, Alec caught at his elbow, pulling him towards the stairs.

“C’mon. You’re gonna pass out on me there if you stay much longer.”

“I’m fine.” Dean told him, fighting his eyelids but not fighting the tug on his arm.

“Yeah, sure.” Alec sounded agreeable but kept up the pressure until Mole stepped in front of them.

“Here.” Mole’s voice was gruff as he planted a weighty bundle on Dean’s chest. Dean caught hold of it reflexively, feeling the familiar shape of his weapons through the cloth. He opened his mouth to speak but Mole was already gone.

Instead he allowed Alec to steer him upstairs. He staggered on the steps once or twice, tired but not really caring, knowing Alec wouldn’t let him fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are running with this, just like they did in part one! One thing for sure, once they meet up we’ll find out how Sam came to be with Ben and how they end up in the same time frame as Dean and Alec.
> 
> Really appreciate you reading, and thank you for your kudos and messages which keep my muse happy!


	36. Chapter 36

** **

Ben looked like a sick kid, Sam thought, with his hair all sweat-damp and mussed above his pale face, the hint of a pout on his lips as he stared at Sam from beneath a dark line of lowered brows. He was a kid listening to a fairy story that his eyes said he desperately wanted to believe, although his expression said clearly it was all just crap. It was a story that was as much a horror story as a bedtime tale, one of another universe, of demons and monsters and fathers who sold their soul, a tale of an older brother and a clone just like Ben.

Sam wasn’t sure how much Ben believed, but with his memory abilities he would be able to retain most of it to ponder on later. If nothing else, at least the younger man was distracted enough to drink a protein shake and it seemed a tiny hint of color returned to the skin stretched tight over the stark bones of his tired face.

There was so much to tell, too much. So Sam chose his words carefully, sketching only a skeleton of their life but making sure that the bitter sweet tendons that were the bond of family, blood or otherwise, were added and made clearly visible in indelible ink.

He talked until they were both exhausted and Ben’s eyelids were fighting to stay open.

“Get some sleep,” he said eventually, voice cracking with overuse as he threw a musty blanket around the transgenic’s shoulders. “Sleep. In the morning we get someone to fix your knee and then we find our family.”

But long before morning light, Ben was restless and feverish and Sam knew there was no more time to waste. He was grinding a hefty dose of strong painkillers into a glass of milk, preparatory to moving, when a tinny sounding theme tune announced the news round-up on the tiny TV set. A spray-tanned man, sporting what was obviously a black hairpiece, droned about old news in bored tones, old news about transgenics and their base in Terminal City.

Sam sank onto the edge of the bed with a hysterical grin on his face. All that time, wondering how to find other transgenics, and they were right there, just a few miles away.

Ben, struggling out of delirious dreams, was a bundle of tense energy, starting at shadows and small sounds. He took the medicine at Sam’s insistence, downed it quickly with a grimace at the sour taste and passed the glass back with hands that danced a feverish quickstep.

As the car of Sam’s choice was already hidden not far from their room, he had nothing to do but wait for the meds to take effect. He kept a hand resting lightly on the over-heated skin of Ben's forearm and as soon as he felt the tension drain out of the taut tendons he explained they were moving and quickly hoisted the groggy transgenic into a fireman’s lift.

Ben hung over his shoulder without protest, making no sound even when the undoubted agony of being manoeuvred into the passenger seat broke through the fog of pain relief. He finally surfaced a little as Sam leaned over him to fasten the seat belt, his breath ghosting hot over the skin of Sam’s ear.

“Don’t leave me here…don’t let them take me.”

A careful swipe of Sam’s cuff dried the sweat from Ben’s forehead. “I’m staying with you, dude. No matter what happens. Trust me, okay?”

Ben regarded him for a long moment with eyes that appeared to be all pupil. It seemed he read something in Sam’s expression that reassured him and, with a sigh, he let himself slump back into a daze.

“Okay,” said Sam quietly, as much to bolster himself as anything else. “Okay. Now we've gotta go to this Terminal City.”

His chest was tight with stress, his mind clamped down hard on the thought that if he found Alec but not Dean, his big brother might be forever out of his reach.

Minutes later, the car was gone. Only a dry patch on the rain wet pavement bore testament to the existence of a Winchester and an X5, both far from home but both closer to family then they realized.

.

“Where’s the dog dude?” Dean eyed the bowl of leftover mac’n’cheese with a heart-felt shudder.

“Painting. Joshua is an artiste.” Alec, his eyes alight with mischief, wagged a finger dramatically at Dean’s disbelieving expression. “It’s a stretch I know, but Big Fella’s canvases are selling like hot cakes on the West Coast. He’s been keeping this place pretty much supplied with food and consumables.”

“This place?” Dean’s eyebrows rose in disbelief as he surveyed the empty apartment; there was no sign of food, consumables or anything desirable.

“Nah. Terminal City.” Alec grinned. “Seriously, I got a sweet deal goin’. You wouldn’t believe how much those rich bozos are willing to pay for a bit of rare transgenic art work.”

Dean huffed a laugh.

“What?” Alec winked at him. “It’s my duty to aid the spread of transgenic culture and relieve the burden of too much wealth in the wrong hands.”

He poured dark coffee into a chipped mug and slid it across the table top to Dean.

“Now…” the humour fled from his face as his expression hardened. “I’ve got an hour or two to kill; why don’t you tell me what went down between you and Sam?”

Dean’s fingers, in the act of picking up the mug, stilled. “Nothin’ went down,” he said carefully.

Alec chewed at his bottom lip, snorted a derisive little laugh. “Yeah right. You get shot and Sam lets you go wandering off to another universe. And you just up and leave your little brother.”

Dean’s mouth thinned to a tight line as he kept his gaze fixed on the table top. “I came to find my asshat of a clone. Is that so hard to believe?”

“The only way you’d come to another universe without Sam is if he was the one shot you.”

The words, half flippant when they left Alec’s lips, dropped like heavy stones into the silence. Alec stared at his older brother in disbelief, reading volumes in the way Dean tucked his chin down, almost as though he was expecting a blow.

“Dean?”

The older man’s eyes met his for a second and slipped away.

“Dean! Did Sam shoot you?” Anger darkened the transgenic’s face.

“No.” Dean swallowed, met his gaze full on. “No. Sam pulled the trigger, yeah, but it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t get a choice. Some bitch demon possessed him.”

Alec’s eyes were wide with shock. “He’s possessed?”

Dean shook his head, guilt and misery on his face as he explained about Meg and Bobby and the anti-possession charms.

“Sam’s still there, Alec, ‘cause I left him there.” Dean's shoulders drooped. "I shoulda made sure he knew it wasn’t his fault.”

.

"What you owe me is lotsa cigars...good cigars; none of them pansy-assed little sticks, y'hear me?"

Mole appeared around the edge of the big door to the vehicle shed. He looked exasperated but oddly pleased with himself as he pointed the chewed end of his current cigar at Alec.

“Y'can have too much of a good thing y'know..." Mole snorted derisively at his own words. "Though you ain't ever been a good thing as such."

"What's got you all fired up?" Alec raised a lazy brow at him. He was about to continue, when a large figure stepped into view. Alec’s mouth was still forming the word “Sam” when he was pushed aside as Dean muscled past him.

“Sammy?” A hoarse question torn from a face tight with hope and fear.

“Dean. Alec.” The relief evident in both eyes and voice was answer enough. It was Sam. It was really Sam.

The Winchester brothers met in a bruising hug, eyes closing, knocking the breath from each other as ribs collided in mute admission of how scared they’d been at the separation.

Mole snorted. “I’m gonna report in.” The words floated back over his shoulder as he strode off in the direction of HQ.

Alec waited a second or two and then stepped forwards himself to greet Sam, but the pleasure on his face dropped away abruptly as a pair of transgenics came into view behind the half-open door. Hanging between them was a figure, the right leg of his jeans sodden with blood and a grim look on his face… Alec’s face, Dean’s face.

Alec felt the air whoosh out of his lungs; his voice grated. “Who the hell is that? Somebody round here needs to be more careful when they’re throwing DNA around!”

Dean responded immediately to the tone and raised his head, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of a second clone. He stared for a moment and then turned to his brother, eyebrow curling in query. “Sam?”

A hesitant smile spread over his brother’s face. “This is Ben. Looks like mebbe you’ve more than one clone.”

Any comment Dean may have made was drowned out by a startled yelp from Alec. “Ben! Whoa, no! Psycho-nut Ben? No man. He’s dead. Max snapped the freak’s neck a year ago.”

Dean frowned at him. “Ben was your twin, right?”

“You knew Alec had a twin?” Sam’s voice went high with surprise.

“Er, yeah, he mentioned it once, when he was sick, but the twin was already dead.” Dean shrugged, remembering; it had been a little thing in a traumatic day. “It never came up again.”

Sam turned an interrogating gaze on Alec. “You say Max snapped his neck? Were they in the woods outside Seattle?”

Alec nodded warily. “How’d you even know that?”

Sam’s fingers ran through his hair; he blew out a little stressed puff of air and tried to explain how he’d grabbed hold of Dean as his brother dropped out of their world, how he’d seen Dean travel on when he’d lost his grip and fallen into woodland where Ben and a woman were fighting, how he’d resuscitated the transgenic and how they’d made their escape from the agents of Manticore.

As he was speaking, Ben hung quietly between the two transgenics, his eyes wary in his grey face and a little pool of blood spreading slowly around his boot.

“How’d he get hurt?” Alec snapped, everything about him now sharp edges and anxiety. “Hands down he’s been up to some psycho bullshit again!”

Sam stared at him in surprise. “Max shattered Ben’s leg. He needs surgery.”

“Dude! That was more than a year ago.” Dean pointed out.

His little brother shook his shaggy head. “Not for us. We came forwards in time somehow. Just before Manticore got there, something happened and they were gone.” He inclined his head in Ben’s direction. “I’ve been looking out for him… maybe a week now? Then this morning I saw a newsflash about Terminal City and here we are.” Sam’s eyes were earnest, reminding Dean of a kid brother wanting to help a lost puppy. “He’s not doing so good. He needs help, Dean.”

“I’ll help him.” It was an ugly sound, the snarl twisting Alec’s features. “He’s dangerous. He needs putting down. Now.”

The brothers turned to him, shocked, taking in the freckles splashed dark across suddenly pale skin as rage poured out of Alec’s shaking body in almost tangible waves.

“Hey…” Sam began, but it was too late. Opposite them, Ben had already responded, his head coming up, eyes narrowed, gaze sharpening as his mouth lifted in a grim smile. A quick movement, too fast for the eye to follow and suddenly he was free of the transgenics on either side, sending them tumbling away as he snatched up a razor-sharp utility knife from the workbench at his side.

“You…” hissed Alec, his body taut as a drawn bow. “I spent months in psy-ops ‘cause of you, while you were runnin’ around giving us all bad press, playin’ the bad boy serial killer. Months in psy-ops! Do you even _know_ what that’s like?!”

The Winchesters’ restraining hands closed on empty air as Alec blurred; he slammed into Ben and the knife flashed bright in the overhead lights as blows were exchanged. Sam cried out with fear for them both, his fingers clawing at his head as he tore the knife free from Ben’s grip with his mind and sent it spinning high to impale itself into the roof rafters.

Alec didn’t miss a beat, taking the opportunity to drive a fist hard into Ben’s face. His twin fell backwards, off-balance, involuntarily placing his weight on his shattered knee as the Winchesters caught hold of Alec and body-slammed him into the workshop wall.

Ben froze, his face a rictus of agony, the shouts of the others drowned in the roaring in his ears. The remains of his knee shattered again under his weight, metal rods bursting through his skin as he dropped soundlessly to the floor, unable to even breathe.

“What the hell was that!” Dean still had hold of Alec’s shoulders; he slammed his clone into the wall again when he struggled and then held him there, restraint turning into support as he realized Alec’s expression was far away and he was shaking uncontrollably.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam panted, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his head, one hand kneading at his forehead as the other helped hold Alec upright. The aggression was draining rapidly out of the X5, seeming to take his strength with it.

“Let him down.” Dean grunted, allowing Alec to slip down the wall as his knees folded. He patted the transgenic’s face to get his attention and was rewarded by a confused look. It seemed Alec was done, for now. Dean turned to Sam with a grimace. “We got a fine mess here.”

Behind them, Ben used his last strength to raise himself up a little. Blood trailed down from his hairline, streamed from his nose, bright as spilt paint against his paper white skin as he lay, propped up awkwardly on one elbow. He raised his other hand, trembling fingers trailing along his lip before he pulled them away, staring with morbid fascination at the warm liquid running down his reddened fingers and across his palm. He was in enemy territory, a prisoner of his own kind and his twin hated him. Fierce flames licked along his leg and into his torso from the ruins of his knee. They burned hot enough to stifle his breath and make black spots dance across his vision; they devoured his will to survive, assuring him he was far too weak to make an escape.

With a soft, hopeless huff of breath Ben let himself roll down onto his back, his bloodied hand falling limply onto his chest. Dark eyelashes fought the encroaching shadows; the 'nomalies were tugging at his limbs, pulling him down into darkness. They would get him after all.

His mind stuttered, slowing, telling him it would soon be over as a clog of thick blood poured down inside his throat, blocking his airways. It didn't matter, he was too tired to fight; there was nothing to fight for anymore.

The tableaux against the wall broke apart abruptly as Sam spun on his heel, some instinct developed over years overriding the angst of the moment.  

"Ben!"

The transgenic was flat out, his eyes closed. After so many days of caring for him it was unbearable and Sam let out an involuntary half sob as he fell to his knees, feeling for a pulse, finding a weak flutter, the flutter of someone giving up.

"No! You don't get to do this! C'mon Ben, wake up!"  

The solid strength of Dean's presence was suddenly there, beside Sam as he hauled the transgenic up to a sitting position by his jacket. "Breathe! Goddamnit, breath!”

Ben coughed, moaned, fighting against the insistence of the man holding him upright, holding him in the world. He coughed again, a spray of red dotting the front of his jacket and the grey surface of the floor.

Sam’s voice was in his ear, demanding, urgent. "Open your eyes. Now!"

Ben's eyelids struggled as he tried to respond, opening with an effort as the grip of the 'nomalies weakened.

"You don't get to die, not now."

Scared, exhausted and in agony, wanting only to let go, Ben found himself unable to give up because Sam hadn't given up on him. His eyes tracked dazedly from Sam's determined face to the green eyes that matched his own, then moved on to the confused and upset face of his twin, the shocked faces of the onlooking transgenics.

"Alec." Dean's voice. It was an order. "Get help. Fast."

There was a blur of motion and soon afterwards some distant shouts. Slowly Ben pulled in a breath, then another; they caught like jagged steel in his chest as something deep inside began to rip open and his eyes flooded with tears.

"Hey," said Sam, helpless, feeling the bone deep shudders racking the man propped against his chest. "Hey..." Unthinking, he wrapped his arms around the ruins of X5-493 and hugged him tight, just like Dean used to do to him when he was a little kid.

Against his shoulder, too far gone and in too much pain to care what anyone thought, a young man sobbed as though his heart was breaking: for a stolen childhood in a world that’d only ever hurt him; for lost brothers and sisters; for a mistaken belief; a mission gone wrong. The grief and fear of being lost and lonely for too many years tracked down his face, translucent droplets turning to crimson as they mixed with the blood spilt by his twin. Ben wept because his twin hated him, but also because although it was too late, finally someone thought he was worth saving. Most of all he cried because he could, because at last someone was looking out for him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A painful chapter…the boys need some tlc.
> 
> Thanks for reading and staying with them on this journey.
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and kind comments.


	37. Chapter 37

There was a bustle around the gurney, a coming and going of an assortment of medically trained transgenics and a lone ordinary, who had arrived one day and stayed to help despite the contamination in Terminal City. They each, in their own way, fought to save the X5 lying pale and limp beneath their gloved hands.

“Sam. You can’t do anythin’ here.” Dean tugged at his brother’s sleeve, a worried frown creasing the skin between his eyes. “You’re exhausted man. Let’s get us some coffee and somethin’ to eat. They’ll let us know if anythin’ changes.”

Sam swayed under the pressure of his brother’s hand, suddenly undeniably weary. He took a last glance at the backs bending over the gurney, caught a glimpse of tousled hair before it was obscured by a green coat. No-one wore white coats in the hospital quarters in Transgenic City, not with a population all suffering at least some degree of PTSD after their years under Manticore’s rule.

Sam nodded, allowing Dean to steer him into the corridor and out onto the dimly lit street. The tang of the city hit his nostrils, the cooler air making him more alert. He straightened his back, strode level with this brother, their arms bumping occasionally on the narrow sidewalk.

A minute or so later they turned into a brightly lit hall filled with long trestle tables and an appetizing smell of cooked food. Roughly half of the tables were occupied and the animated buzz of conversation faltered and then resumed as curious eyes turned in their direction. Everyone already knew about Alec’s donor and most of them had managed to drift by the vehicle sheds when he’d been working on the Firebird. Now Alec’s donor had a brother, and Alec’s crazy twin was in town. It was all a welcome diversion from the stress of being under siege.

Dean headed to an empty table in the corner and dragged out a chair, the metal legs grating noisily on the hard floor. He jerked his thumb at the seat and Sam sat obligingly, folding his long legs underneath the low table as his brother headed over to the food counter, returning a few minutes later with two steaming plates of chili. He slid one across the table to Sam and flicked a fork across the shiny surface with a casual finger.

“Not as good as Bobby’s.” Dean gave a wry grin.

“Good ‘nuff,” said Sam, voice muffled by a mouthful of food, a second forkful already raised to his lips as his stomach reminded him it was starving and had been starving for some time.

They ate in silence for a while, nothing said until Sam leaned back, wrapping his fingers around a mug of coffee.

“No pie.” Dean mourned. “I haven’t seen pie since I got here.”

“Maybe there isn’t any pie, post-Pulse?”

Dean gave him a look from under lowered eyebrows and Sam smirked, sure that if there was pie anywhere in Seattle then his brother would be able to hunt it down.

“So,” he said carefully, finally getting to the question he’d been wanting to ask since he saw Dean in the vehicle shed. “You okay?”

Dean’s gaze dropped to the table top. He shrugged. “Yeah, Sam. I’m fine.”

“’Cause when I saw you last, you weren’t fine.”

His brother’s head came up, a firmness to his jaw as he met Sam’s eyes. “Wasn’t your fault, Sammy.”

“Feels like my fault,” said Sam miserably. He took a quick slurp of coffee, burning his lip, rubbing at it absently with his thumb.

“You were possessed. And I’m fine. Transgenic blood is awesome, you know that.” The elder Winchester ran his fingers through his hair as he leaned back in his seat. “Time travel crap I could do without though.”

He still looked too pale under the bright lights, Sam thought, with tired shadows painted under his eyes, eyes that were narrowed in a puzzled squint.

“How’d you take care of Ben? ‘Cause dude I felt like week old roadkill.” The ‘still do’ was noticeably missing.

It took Sam a moment to catch on, then his eyes widened in surprise. “I’ve been okay. You weren’t?”

“Not so much.” Dean caught his bottom lip between his teeth, worried at it, gave Sam a half-hearted smile. “Guess that’s a good thing then, huh?”

They were both thinking ‘demon blood’, but neither of them said the words.

.

_The aging hunter dabbed the rag over his forehead, leaving a smear of polish as he wiped at the faint sheen of perspiration that had accumulated while he was buffing the surface of the shiny beast parked outside his door._

_He thought Dean would be pleased, if he could see his car, if he ever saw her again. With a heavy heart, Bobby shoved the rag in his pocket, fighting a little with the fraying cotton around the torn flap._

_He delved in his waistcoat, pulled out a sizeable dog chew and threw it to the muscular animal on the porch, deftly avoiding the string of saliva that flicked in his direction._

_"Figure it's just me and you now."_

_The dog spared him a soulful glance before returning to its treat, having nothing to say on the subject of Bobby's absent surrogate sons. Bobby rubbed the dog's warm head with a calloused hand and headed inside. He was sure there was a bottle of bourbon in the study, hopefully the contents would summon the familiar golden brown fog and send slow, burning tendrils to numb the fear curdling his gut._

.

As far as Alec was concerned, Ben was a threat. Not only was he a danger in his own right to anyone around him, but his very presence in Terminal City was a risk. If it leaked out that the transgenics were harboring a serial killer in their midst, it could only do harm to the careful and painful process of building up good public relations. And that wasn’t the worst of it. Ben hunted and killed Ordinaries. Ordinaries just like Sam and Dean.

So Alec waited outside the room where they worked on the identical X5, telling himself it was to make sure his twin didn’t have some sort of episode, although it looked as though the only decisive move Ben was likely to make was giving up and dying.

He slipped into a store cupboard when he heard Dean suggesting coffee and the Winchesters preparing to leave. He was on edge after the events of the last few hours, not ready to face questions about Ben, not ready to ask his own questions of Sam, like how he’d not been able to stop himself shooting his big brother.

It was over an hour after the Winchesters left when they wheeled Ben out and down the corridor into a smaller, dimly lit room. Alec was leaning up the door post, watching, one hand jammed into his pants pocket, when Mole strode up behind him.

“I was thinkin’ of assigning a guard,” Mole said without preamble.

“No need. I’m the one with a relative in town who’s crazy as a box of frogs. I figure it’s my responsibility.” Alec sighed heavily, the unease in his posture easy to read to someone who’d spent weeks working with him.

Mole eyed him shrewdly but didn’t argue, resources were thin on the ground as it was, but he slapped Alec on the shoulder as he turned to leave.

“Lemme know if y’need a break.” And just like that, he was gone.

Alec moved slowly on into the room. It didn’t look as though his twin was going to survive long; he just needed to hang around until… and then he would be free to find his brothers. He settled down on a spare cot shoved into a corner of the room. There was a curtain drawn around it, so he could watch Ben with impunity and no-one who may object would be any the wiser.

.

It was cold, completely dark…he must be in the basement with the ‘nomalies.

Ben floated into existence on nauseous waves of shivers.

It was so cold.

Later on, much later, he wondered if maybe the ‘nomalies weren’t mad when they were first caged in the basement; maybe it was the intense cold sent them over the edge into insanity. It didn’t matter. He was crazy anyway.

A long time after that someone spoke to him. It seemed lighter up there, near to the voice, but he felt so sick the words were lost in the roaring in his ears. He thought it might’ve been Sam, so he struggled up a little further towards the surface, felt a large, warm hand on his arm. Sam, definitely Sam. The Ordinary who saved him.

The voice belonging to Sam had been gone for a while the next time Ben bobbed up into the lighter place. He thought about Max. His sister had told him it was wrong to hunt Ordinaries, but he was a good soldier; it was his Mission. But she said it was wrong. He was confused. Max must be right, ‘cause Sam was an Ordinary. Ben thought it was a good thing he was shut away with the ‘nomalies, where he couldn’t hurt anyone, anyone like Sam.

.

Max arrived on feet so silent that even Alec only just heard her. He eased himself towards the gap in the curtain, sure she would sense him, but he needn’t have feared. Max was a frozen statue next to Ben’s bed, one hand pressed over her mouth and tears slipping down her face and dripping into her hair.

“I’m sorry.” Her whisper was a tiny thread of sound. “I should’ve made sure. You didn’t deserve this.”

 _“Damn right.”_ Alec thought. Right from the beginning of their training Manticore had drilled into them the importance of being sure of the kill. _“Way to go, Max, leave the psycho X5 breathing.”_

“You don’t deserve any of this; I should’ve come looking for you years ago.”

Alec clenched his teeth, unwilling to accept the guilt that was threatening to lessen his anger. Okay, Ben had a crap time growing up, but they all did. Didn’t mean you had to go nuts. Alec ground his teeth a little harder, the jut of his jaw belligerent. 

_“Not like it was you had two extended vacations in Psy-Ops, is it Ben? All ‘cause of some crazy ass twin!”_

Max stood beside the bed for a long time, reaching out occasionally and stroking Ben’s forehead. She loved him, Alec realized, with a pang of envy he didn’t understand, because everyone knew Max loved Ben as a brother. He’d never seen her so soft, so unguarded in her fear for someone else and he found himself hurt, unaware of her reaction in the woods outside Seattle when Joshua and Original Cindy had found him after he’d been torn away from the Winchester’s universe.

Alec thought maybe now she would be happier, with computer geek Logan and her own X5 brother. She’d only ever put up with Alec because he looked so much like Ben anyway.

He chewed his lip hard and looked away, missing completely the tiny movement of his twin’s hand.

.

Max. Ben knew it was Max. He fought to get up to the light, but it was too far and he was too weak. Despair pulled at him; the ‘nomalies wouldn’t let him go, not now.

Max was crying. The sound made Ben hurt inside in a place he hadn’t been to for a long time. Max mustn’t cry. It was his job to look after his brothers and sisters, to make them laugh when things were bad. Shadow pictures...his shadow pictures used to make Max laugh, made her brown eyes all shiny with happiness. It was dark down here, but if Max was with him he had to try. Ben’s fingers twitched, his hand fluttering a little. He didn’t think it’d moved enough to make a shadow but he felt Max’s palm run across his forehead, the press of her lips by his hairline, so maybe he’d done enough.

The darkness seemed empty when she left, more empty than it had been before. He was so tired…sinking down as life slipped away through the wound in his leg. Maybe he could stay down in the dark this time…it was so much effort and he was so cold…he was dying, he could feel it...alone...scared.

.

The room was quiet, not even the tick of a clock to remind a watching X5 that outside its walls life carried on in its usual random way. Alec pushed aside the curtain, finding himself drawn towards the other cot until he stood over the prone figure.

His twin was dying. It was in the pallor of his skin, the way his hair lay. Even with enhanced senses, Alec could hardly hear the whisper of breath that moved Ben’s chest the merest distance. It was alarming how much he looked like Dean had on that awful day in Bobby’s workshop.

Alec eased the room door shut. If Ben pulled off the impossible and survived, he’d kill again, Alec was sure of that. It would be better for everyone if he died now; everyone was expecting it anyway. It was up to him to finish what Max had started.

Alec found he had the pillow from the spare cot in his hands. He stepped forwards. It would only take a few seconds.

Almost as though he knew, the man on the bed twitched, his pale lips parted slightly and Alec heard something about “‘nomalies”.

Alec’s hands stopped, the pillow frozen in mid-descent. The figure beneath him, sprawled limp, a death’s head skull protruding through living flesh and near translucent skin…he’d seen it before.

A tear slipped from under Ben’s closed eyelid and darted to the mattress; it was the tiniest amount of liquid and yet it was enough to breach a wall built by Manticore inside Alec’s memory.

_Alec was floating…they’d gone too far. He could see the green glimmer of his own eyes through half-open eyelids, the shine of a last tear slipping free. The pain had stopped at last, the livid trickle of blood from his mouth slowing, congealing. He drifted above himself, realizing with a sense of vague surprise that he must be dead...free._

Alec’s mouth opened, his breath coming fast in distress as he remembered the white coats pushing in, leaning over his dying body. Heard and felt again the fire-agony of the electric current, once, twice, a third time ripping him back into his limp body.

Alec came back to the present with a shock as his twin moaned, weak, helpless. His twin.

With a vehement curse, Alec threw the pillow across the room. He couldn’t kill Ben, kill him for going crazy because of the things Manticore had done to them. Ben was dangerous, so it was Alec’s job to stay close to him and make sure he didn’t hurt anyone ever again.

A measured tread in the corridor announced the arrival of Harley, one of Terminal City’s medics. He didn't appear to notice Alec's thinly veiled distress, nodding grimly at the shocked X5 as he set about peeling the sodden dressing away from Ben's knee. The wound was still seeping, livid red painted on the pale skin.

“It’s not clotting?” Alec asked in surprise, eyeing the bag of X5 blood being fed into Ben’s arm with an IV.

“No.” Harley sighed. “Never seen it before. Even X5 blood isn’t doing the trick. Maybe he doesn’t want to live.”

The new dressing went on swiftly. Harley noted the time on the chart, shook his head sorrowfully and left.

The tremors in Alec’s legs became worse as shards of memory fell glittering and sharp as razors through his conscious mind. Faster and faster they tumbled. Still he stood, motionless, watching his twin.

Another dressing change came and went.

“He won’t last much longer.”

Alec nodded, numb.

They were alone again. Alec's legs were threatening to fold beneath him so he leaned his back against the wall next to the head of Ben’s cot; allowing himself to slide down the smooth, cold surface until he was resting on his haunches.  He felt like he was coming apart.  With a sense of panic he took his head in his hands, squeezing at his temples, trying desperately to stop the onslaught of memories. Awful things, cruel things, torture, fear, agony, garish pictures whirling through his mind.  Alec began to rock, backwards and forwards on his heels, fingers twisted in his hair, trying not to scream, completely unaware that he was crying.

He wouldn’t have tried for anything else, but Ben knew someone needed him. The need, raw and urgent, reached down into the darkness with grasping fingers and Ben responded, dragging himself out of dark vapors, away from the ‘nomalies and up into a dim light. Someone was crying. He was in his dormitory and someone needed him, one of his brothers. Something told him that this brother was more important than anyone.

It took everything Ben had to move his head to the side, force his fingers to walk his hand over the edge of the mattress and onto the shaking shoulder beside him.

“It’s okay…”

Alec started, shocked, feeling the cold weight of his twin’s hand. He turned wide green eyes, met a matching pair.

“It’s okay,” Ben whispered. “No ‘nomalies here…Sam won’t let ‘em in.”

Alec stared at him. At Ben. His twin. Dean’s other clone.

Harley didn’t argue when X5-494 took him by the arm and ran him to the dying man’s bedside. If Alec wanted to give blood to his twin, who was he to argue? Not Harley. Not today. Not when the X5 had tears on his face and a craziness in his eyes.

It took an hour, but the bleeding stopped.

Alec waited, unable to speak, allowing Harley to disconnect the IV without protest and all the time, Ben’s chest rose and fell.

Alec just sat there, watching his twin, wondering if he’d done the right thing.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this one didn’t turn out the way I expected! 
> 
> Love to know what you think.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading and leaving kudos and messages. They keep me writing and I really do appreciate them.
> 
> 'Rewind to the beginning' has been updated if you fancy a bit of pure Supernatural : )


	38. Chapter 38

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wide dusty window ledge was a good place to sit and catch the last light before gloom fell over Terminal City. Dean had been lounging there for a while, his ass and one boot up on the ledge, his arm resting casually on his bended knee and the other long leg stretching down to the floor.

They'd settled into the empty room over Joshua's quarters. The canine transgenic kept the first floor of the old narrow storage house for his workshop and living accommodation; the bare second floor being allocated to the Winchesters and the X5 twins. Mole arranged for Alec's meagre possessions to be transported from the room he'd used infrequently since the transgenics' base was established and Alec soon scrounged some extra mattresses and blankets. They would eat in the Mess Hall, because there's only so much mac'n'cheese a man can stomach and even Joshua seemed to be tiring of it.

Dean sipped slowly from a bottle of cheap whiskey, letting the bite of the harsh liquor roll over his tongue and trickle down his throat. In between sips he let the bottle hang loosely, its glass neck snared by his fingers and the weak sunlight turning the contents to liquid amber.

Boots rang loud on the metal staircase but, recognizing the tread as belonging to his brother, Dean didn't turn, taking another slow slug from the bottle instead.

"Hey."

He rotated his head then, sending a brief glance and a half-nod in his brother's direction.

He looked tired, Sam thought. "Travel sickness still bothering you?"

"Nah." Dean took a longer swallow, letting his head drop back with a dull thud against the peeling paint of the frame.

"Seems kinda strange..." Sam ventured. "Staying put without a hunt to figure out."

Dean's eyes flicked back in his direction, the slanting rays of the sun highlighting his profile but hiding his expression in shadow.

"Yeah," he said tonelessly.

"Almost a vacation." Sam put a hint of a query into the comment, hoping to prompt a clue to the cause of his brother's increasingly morose attitude, but he was floundering in the sea of Dean's misdirection and he knew it.

"Guess we'd better hope it's not a permanent vacation." The growl in Dean's tone indicated he'd hit a sore spot. That was better than nothing.

"We'll get home somehow, after we see how it plays out with Alec and Ben."

The attempt at placation didn't work. Dean scraped a thumb down the side of his jaw, the dry rasp of nail over stubble audible across the room. He frowned a little, narrowing his eyes.

"We've got some unfinished business back home." A yellow-eyed demon. A father to avenge. Sometimes the things you didn't talk about loomed larger than anything else.

Sam was stung, knowing it to be unreasonable but hurt anyway by the implication, however vague, that he might have forgotten. It lent a sharpness to his voice, brought a spark of resentment to his hazel eyes.

"Maybe drowning yourself in whiskey isn't the smartest way to figure out a way back."

Dean swiveled on his butt, bringing his leg down and dropping his booted foot to the floor with a thump as he glared balefully at his younger brother.

"So, what are you now Sammy? My conscience?"

Sam spun on his heel with a gesture of resignation. He would put money on it that part of Dean's worries centered on a brother with demon blood in his veins.

"I'm going to eat," he snapped, clanging his way down the stairs and inwardly cursing older brothers who were emotionally constipated.

Behind him Dean placed the bottle carefully on the ledge and massaged his forehead with a sigh. They were in the wrong universe and Azazel was running wild in their own. Sam had demon blood. A clone he'd accepted as a younger brother was clearly struggling to cope with his twin, who should be dead, an unexpected second clone who just might try and kill them all. Not to mention they were under siege in a stronghold of genetically enhanced super soldiers. Awesome.

Dean snorted. Sam was probably right and whiskey wasn't the answer, but it was better than worrying himself into an aneurysm.

.

Sam looked up from his plate of all-in casserole. The city was due a supply drop and food was becoming more and more basic. In the circumstances it surprised him that no-one seemed to mind feeding Alec's 'brothers' although the fact Alec had organized delivery of the majority of the food may have had a bearing on their lenient outlook.

That lenient attitude did not extend to Ben, even if he was Alec's twin. Everyone knew the story of the escaped 09er who'd developed psychotic tendencies. The silence that caused Sam to raise his head was a direct result of the entry of the twins. Alec had his head high, a look of defiance in his eyes as he led the way into the Mess Hall. Ben limped behind, keeping pace on his crutch, a sardonic smile pulling his face into perfectly sculpted lines.

It was an odd thing, thought Sam. When you saw the twins together they were identical, but if you had to describe Ben the picture in your head was of someone paler, with darker hair and eyes. He wondered if it was because Ben habitually kept to the shadows or if it was some darkness inside him seeping through his very pores. It made Sam wonder with a feeling of discomfort if the contamination in his own blood was somehow visible.

Alec spotted him immediately, a touch of relief in the look he sent over the heads of the other diners. He quickly took two plates of food and led the way over to Sam's table, casually working the other transgenics as he passed with a smile here, a comment there, falling back automatically on Manticore's training by easing the social situation and reducing the risk of unwanted confrontation.

Ben dropped into a chair at the end of the table so that the only person between him and the security of the corner was Sam. His arrogant slouch and sneer easily deflected any curious glances still coming in their direction and people turned away, not wanting to attract too much of his attention.

The mask slipped only once, when Sam slid a fork across to him with a smile. For just a second Ben's expression softened, making him instantly younger and more vulnerable and still clearly sick. Sam found himself wishing the others had seen it; maybe they wouldn't be so wary if they had, or perhaps Ben was right and it was unwise to appear vulnerable in a room full of predators.

Alec slid into his own seat, positioning himself so he could keep a wary eye on both his twin and the other occupants of the Mess Hall.  Ben was making it obvious that he wasn't out to win friends and it was just as well because everyone seemed to hate him. That hurt Alec, quite unexpectedly, on a deep level.

They were all trained killers but they'd killed to order, not by choice. Some had enjoyed it more than others. Did the intense dislike seeping from the other ex-inhabitants of Manticore stem from a worry they might turn out to have the same defect? Alec understood that concern all too well. He poked his food listlessly, unable to trust his twin or the other transgenics and feeling increasingly wary of even his own instincts. At his side a glowering Ben chewed and swallowed without enthusiasm, doggedly building up his strength for...something. 

.

They were heading out of the Mess Hall when Alec pulled up abruptly. Sam halted, hearing Ben's involuntary hiss behind him as he was forced to take weight on his bad leg. Although the pins had been removed successfully the amount of damage and infection would take a long time to heal, a long time in transgenic terms.

"Max." Alec dipped his chin, his face frozen and all his usual banter forgotten as she stepped around him, eyes seeking Ben, oblivious to the way Alec bit his lip with a self-deprecating smirk as he moved out of the way.

Ben was motionless, the sneer absent as he looked around Sam's shoulder. Max stared at him for a moment, words following in an awkward rush.

"They fixed you up okay, huh?"

"It'll heal." Ben looked embarrassed, unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as he spoke.

Max flinched, reminded by Ben’s unintentional movement that she’d snapped his neck and left him for dead. "About that...I shouldn't have left you...you're my brother."

His hand dropped and he shrugged, his intense gaze meeting her own, reading the tears in the shine of her eyes. "There was no choice."

"There's always a choice!"

He moved past her then, eyes intent in his pale face as he patted her arm.

"You made the right decision. No hard feelings, okay?”

Then he was gone and Max was left with moisture on her cheeks. She dashed it away and raised her head, a frown settling on her features when she saw the upturned faces looking in her direction. She settled her hands on her hips and glared at them all.

"Defences in Zone A need shoring up." She singled out a beefy looking man with beaver genes. "Ziggy, get a work gang movin' willya?"

Any remaining awkwardness was lost in the scrape of chairs and a flurry of commands and by the time Max turned to the door, the X5 twins and Sam were out of sight.

.

“Whatever it is you want to say, just spit it out. You’re givin’ me a headache with all that messed up brooding.”

Alec was startled from his thoughts and found himself pinned down by the narrowed stare his brother was fixing on him from Joshua’s dilapidated armchair.

“C’mon Alec…” Ben gave him a tight, sarcastic little smile, deliberately spacing his words out in a lazy drawl. “What’s eating at ya.”

“You,” said Alec bluntly. He was tired of stepping around the subject. “I wasn’t expecting a twin to turn up.” He gave a sarcastic smirk of his own. “There I was, minding my own business and wham, an unexpected double. Not just any double mind…” He spread his hands wide, expanding the smirk. “You. Dead you. It’s kind of a shock to a man’s nerves y’know.”

Ben snorted. “Wasn’t expecting it either. So I guess that puts both of us on the wrong foot.”

Alec held his gaze. “So, I gotta ask, ‘cause it’s kinda unusual. What made you decide to go around killing ordinaries? Seems to me it’s not the smartest thing to do if you’re wanting to stay incognito.”

If Ben was shocked by the direct question he didn’t show it. The lazy smile didn’t waver at all. “They were offerings to the blue lady, so she’d take care of us.”

“Offerings?” Alec’s eyebrows climbed up towards his hairline. “What sorta crazy is that! They were people Ben! Not tooth dispensing livestock bred to provide body parts for some psycho! What’s this blue lady to you anyway?”

“She kept us safe, in Manticore, until Jack...” The smile was gone now, Ben’s posture turning tense and defensive. “You kill. What’s the difference?”

“Not for fun!” Alec’s voice rose a tone at the statement. “Did she keep you safe, this blue lady? ‘Cause I seem to remember your unit made a run for it; doesn’t sound like you felt too safe to me.”

Ben dropped his eyes, hunching into himself on Joshua’s couch and pressing his back further into the moth-eaten cushions. “We had to run. Max had a seizure…they would’ve killed her.”

“Keep going.”

“Yeah. Keep going Ben.”

Dean’s voice made them both jump as he moved smoothly into the living area of Joshua’s accommodation. Their donor had an uncanny way of moving silently even when transgenic ears were involved and he smelt so similar to them both that another of their early warning systems was almost useless.

“I’ve talked to Max. I get what happened in Manticore with the kids’ teeth. It’s weird, but I get it.” Dean walked a little closer, frowning down at Ben. “But you escaped, right? Lived free for years. It was in your interests to keep your head the hell down, not go on some killing spree.”

Ben looked hunted, his eyes shuttling around the room and fixing longingly on the exit.

“What happened, Ben?” Alec followed up the attack. “You were out, free from Manticore. The blue lady had kept you safe, right?”

At first.” Ben’s fingers wound into the tattered cloth of the seat. “Then later…I did what I had to do.”

He refused to say any more, but they all knew the subject wasn’t closed, not even part-way closed.

.

The first time he saw it, it was only the briefest of glimpses but Sam had known that streamlined shape his entire life. A simple flash of gleaming black paintwork through the mesh fence in Zone A, where he was helping to repair the defenses.

Later, on the way back to their accommodation, he saw it again. A better view this time, the distinctive headlights unmistakable in the gloom. It sat, the engine idling with its familiar grumble, just outside the barricades. It was the Impala.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter than last time, slowed down by an eye problem. Hopefully it will clear up soon.
> 
> Thank you for all your support and kind comments!


	39. Chapter 39

Nightmares can stretch you thin. If they're bad enough it's as though you never slept at all. Too many, night after night, can wear you down as surely as a glacier over rocks, even if you don't need to sleep as much as a regular human. When they start flickering just out of sight when you’re awake, you know you’re in trouble. Alec didn’t want to acknowledge it, even to himself, but he was scared. Ever since that moment when Ben’s tear breached Manticore’s barricades in his memories, Alec had been spiraling downwards, ever faster, hiding it the best he could, because he had a reputation to keep, because Ben was meant to be the crazy one, not him.

When a foot nudged the end of his mattress with some force, Alec was startled awake, forgetting for the moment that he was meant to be playing it cool. He blurred into a crouch ready to defend himself and found he was more or less eye level with Dean, who was sitting calmly on the next mattress, his legs stretched out across the dusty floor.

"That was some freakin' nightmare," observed his older brother.

Alec subsided onto his butt, his whole body shaking with leftover fear and unused adrenaline as he tried to bring his breathing under control.

Dean moved incrementally closer, edging casually along the side of his mattress until he was within arm's reach.

"Hey," he said, the word a prudent warning of the descent of his hand to deliver a swift pat and a shake of Alec's bent knee. "You okay there?"

The younger man swallowed, the half-light painting grim hollows in his cheeks and thickening the darkness of his lashes around the hard glitter of his eyes. He nodded, not looking convinced. They both knew that he wasn't okay at all.

The glint of Ben's eyes from the next mattress and a shuffling noise from Sam's direction indicated that Alec's sleep-bound distress had awoken them all, as it had periodically throughout the night.

Alec stood up swiftly, his nerves shooting lightning bolts along his skin and making it impossible to stay still. He rubbed his hands hard over his face, across his head, unaware that his hair stood up in unruly spikes after their passage. It would soon be daylight and with every moment in the room the iron bands of stress around his skull became tighter, their insistent pressure bringing a swoop of dizziness. He must have swayed then because Dean's hand was firm on his shoulder and he hadn't even seen his brother get up onto his feet.

Alec allowed the contact for a few moments, needing the emotional support as much as the physical. Then he patted Dean's hand brusquely and gave a weak smile of reassurance.

"I'm gonna get some air."

Ben was already on his feet, pulling on his jacket cautiously as he balanced with most of his weight on one leg. Dean thought he looked sad, maybe a little confused at Alec's show of trust. He was visibly surprised when Sam handed him his crutch.

“I fixed some padding on the top." Sam said quietly. "It's not good to use it without padding; it'll cause damage to the nerves under your arm."

The surprise on the transgenic's face dissolved into pleasure and embarrassment, causing a slow smile to spread over Sam's face and Dean to wonder how often anyone had actually done anything for his newly discovered clone.

"C'mon, Ben," said Alec, forcibly injecting a bright tone into his voice. "Time for that dressing change."

His twin raised a nonchalant eyebrow but didn't protest. Early meant quiet, less chance of running into other people at the medical center and that was fine with Ben. He fell into line behind his twin. Alec had made it plain that he felt responsible for Ben’s behavior in the transgenic stronghold and the sight of 494 closely shadowed by 493 was becoming a familiar sight.

.

A light wind whipped across the surface of the deep puddles at the roadside, causing the reflections of lights from nearby buildings to ripple and then shatter into crazy shapes that sliced into Alec’s mind and shimmered in a nauseating way. Alec forced himself to concentrate on something else, keeping his eyes focused on the wall of the building beside him as he spoke to his twin over his shoulder.

“You said the blue lady kept you safe at first. So what happened?”

“I made a mistake.” It was a flat statement. “Safe doesn’t exist.”

Alec stopped, telling himself it was only so he could concentrate on his twin. “So you went all psycho and started killin’. Did that work out for you?”

“I guess not.” A light shudder ran through Ben’s frame, his voice empty and chilling as he continued. “Maybe they weren’t worthy enough. I should’ve tried harder.”

Alec turned to him with horror. “What d’you mean? Worthy?”

“I’m a good soldier! I picked the best for her! But she…it wasn’t enough.” A bitter twist pulled at the expressive mouth. “She abandoned me. I tried, I tried so hard.”

Ben was staring at him from the shadows that lay deeper alongside the wall, his eyes earnest, clearly hurt by the perceived rejection of his efforts.

Alec blinked, wanting to pursue the subject but suddenly overwhelmed by vertigo. He was aware of Ben’s face swimming at his shoulder but found his eyes drawn back to the mesmerizing kaleidoscope of color shivering across the puddles. He didn't hear the sharp note of the motorcycle engine and took no evasive action as it hurtled carelessly past. The sheet of cold water thrown up from the road surface was shocking, frighteningly familiar. Alec ducked away instinctively, trying to escape from the.... _lights in his eyes...the hose aimed at his face by the man in the white coat._

_"Come now, 494, its only water."_

Alec's breath went out in a high-pitched wheeze as he staggered away, his hands lifting to protect his head.

_"Why, you're shaking. Perhaps you're cold?" Insidious, the voice dripped into his ears. "Maybe I can warm you up?"_

_Blinding blue light crackled, reached out and stroked him with vicious fingers of electricity. The Psy-Ops technician was laughing as he turned up the current._

Alec cried out, falling helplessly against the brick wall at his side, his jacket rasping against the rough surface. He collapsed, whimpering, completely unaware of his surroundings or of his twin reaching for him.

"Alec? Hey Alec, what's up with you?"

Ben bent down, balancing himself carefully. His twin seemed to be having some sort of episode. He didn't respond to Ben's voice or a shake of his shoulder other than to cringe away.

"HEY!"

Still nothing. Alec's head lolled back against the wall, the whites of his eyes showing. He was barely conscious, uncaring of the water soaking into his jeans as he sprawled in the puddles.

"Looks like I'm not the only one with the crazy gene then."

Ben lifted Alec's eyelid, felt his pulse and tried slapping his face gently. The only response was a quiet groan.

"Okaaay..." Ben glanced around quickly, considered his twin briefly and then tucked his crutch securely in position. He jammed his other hand under Alec's armpit and dragged him towards the gaping maw of a dark entrance to an abandoned building. Alec whimpered and kicked weakly, his fingernails tearing on the rough floor as he tried half-heartedly to resist.

"Knock it off!" Ben scowled down at his twin's wet head. "It'd be much easier for me to just leave you lying here in the street y'know."

He leaned the crutch up the wall by the doorway, took hold of the frame for support and hoisted his brother through into the dark interior. Alec immediately curled up into a ball in the darkness, holding his head and mumbling something unintelligible.

"Well this is just great." Ben peered at him with morbid curiosity. "Nice of you to warn me you're likely to have a flashback if you get wet. Good thing dog man doesn't have a shower fitted."

He poked Alec gently with the end of his crutch. His twin cringed away.

"N...no more...please. Don't hurt me again. I don't want to go down with the 'nomalies."

Ben hissed, white teeth gleaming in the gloom as he curled his lip in disgust. 'Nomalies. Alec was having flashbacks about Manticore. It was now a war of desire against duty. Ben’s instincts screamed at him to abandon his twin and make a run for it, but that would leave Alec in Manticore's clutches, even if it was only in his own head.  Undecided, Ben chewed his lip, glanced again at his brother. There was no choice; he couldn’t carry Alec so he had to go for help.

"Stay put." He tapped Alec on the shoulder but his brother was staring blankly at the doorway and wheezing as though he'd smoked 100 cigarettes a day since birth.

"I'm gonna get help. Don't go running off anywhere."

It didn't look as though Alec was capable of doing anything other than possibly dying of fright, so Ben turned on his heel and stumped off as quickly as he could.

His mind was in a turmoil of self-recrimination at the lost opportunity and the work truck thundering past as he turned into their building covered the sound of Dean coming the other way. His donor was moving at some speed and they collided with force in Joshua's entrance door. Ben's crutch and their legs somehow tangled and they went down in a heap with a completely uncharacteristic lack of grace.

"What the fuck..." Dean removed Ben's elbow from his ribcage, unnerved by the close proximity of the transgenic's face to his own. Ben's gaze seemed to be fixed on his mouth.

"You're not gonna pull my teeth out, are ya?" Dean squinted at him.

“Very funny.” Ben rolled away. “Alec needs help.”

Dean was already on his feet; he fisted Ben’s jacket and hoisted him upright with an angry motion. “Where the hell is he, what’d you do to him?”

Ben narrowed his eyes. “Oh please. Use your inadequate brain. I can’t help it if he’s nuts.” He gestured for Dean to go through the doorway first, a sadistic smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “They _are_ very nice teeth.”

“You’ve got your own set.” Dean snapped, shouldering past him with unnecessary force. “Mebbe I can knock ‘em out for ya.”

.

They went down the sidewalk at a half-run, Ben's face getting progressively paler at the quick pace until he stopped in relief at the last corner and pointed wordlessly at the stark rectangle of the doorway, more obvious now in the growing daylight.

Dean left him leaning there and jogged up to the entrance. He entered the dark interior cautiously, grateful that his transfusion from Alec had left him with improved night vision. He crouched down next to his clone, who was huddled quietly in the shadows.

"Alec. I'm here. Hey, dude, look at me. It's Dean."

He laid a hand carefully on Alec's shoulder. The transgenic shuddered but didn't pull away. That was something at least.

"I'm gonna sit down, okay? It's gonna be alright; you know you can trust me, right?"

Dean swiveled and dropped his butt slowly onto the cold floor alongside Alec, keeping the soothing monotone going.

"You shoulda told me you were feeling this crappy. You can talk to us anytime, 'bout anythin'. We got your back okay?"

It was ironic he thought, that he was asking his clone to talk about feelings. It was so unlikely that he would.

Alec's face turned to him, a pale blur in the gloom. His breath hitched as he said something Dean couldn't comprehend. It may even have been in a different language.

"No-one is gonna hurt you," said Dean firmly; it was a stab in the dark but probably what Alec needed to hear anyway. He wriggled sideways and laid his arm across Alec's shoulders. The transgenic was cold, wet and shaking; it was instinct to gather him closer, tuck him tight against his side under one arm. After a couple of minutes some of the tension went out of the thigh next to his own and Alec’s breathing slowed to a more normal rate.

"How about we get outta here?"

Alec nodded, more felt than seen as Ben chose that moment to appear in the doorway, blocking out most of the light.

"Yeah c'mon Alec. You don't want everyone thinking you're a genetic mistake too."

"One more friggin' word outta you, you get punched," warned Dean, glowering at Ben as he helped Alec onto his feet. "He wouldn't be in this world of hurt if it wasn't for your freak assed behavior."

He helped Alec stumble outside, propping him against the wall until he was sure the younger man was able to support his own weight.

"I'm okay now." Alec waved him away, obviously embarrassed by his own weakness. He took a tentative pace and then another, the others falling into step on either side of him, close enough to lend assistance if it was needed.

"What'd you mean, if it wasn't for me?" The grim line of Ben's brows accentuated the confusion in his voice.

Dean stared at him, incredulous. "You know they all had an awesome little vacation in psy-ops when you escaped, right?"

"I heard that. It was a long time ago."

"Yeah, well it wasn't too long ago you decided to start pulling teeth from civilians. Kinda thing made Manticore sit up and take notice. I guess mebbe they thought if they broke your twin often enough then they'd have some answers."

"They tortured him ‘cause they couldn't catch me." Ben was clearly horrified. After a pause he continued in a quiet voice. "How long?"

"Six months. Give or take a week or two. He doesn't remember too well, what with the friggin' brainwashin'."

"I am here y'know."

Alec's baleful mutter finished the conversation effectively and Ben didn't say another word until his twin was dry and wrapped up in a scratchy blanket with a hot mug of broth clasped between his hands. Then he whispered, half to himself. "I didn't know I had a twin."

"Manticore wasn't big on sharing," noted Sam, pushing a mug of the soup in his direction.

"Is that why he attacked me, that first day?"

"Yeah Ben. I reckon it was." Sam remembered how shocked they'd all been at Alec's reaction, not finding out the reason for it until later.

Ben subsided onto his mattress and rolled away to face the wall. The soup mug, abandoned on the floor, sent thin tendrils of steam into the cool air.

Alec's nonchalant slouch against the wall was gradually degrading into a slump. Dean waited until his eyelids began to close and the mug tilted in his grasp, then took his elbow.

"Lie your ass down."

Alec blinked at him. "Yeah..."

Seconds later he was prone on his mattress, eyes closed. Dean raised his eyebrow in silent query and Sam smiled, waving airily in the direction of the first aid kit.

"Thought he could use a decent sleep."

His brother smirked. "Way to go, Sammy." He gestured at the twins. Ben’s turned back was an insurmountable barricade and the way he was holding his knee in a white knuckled grip suggested he wasn’t going anywhere soon. Alec was out cold and was likely to be for some time, bearing in mind the amount of sedatives Sam had slipped into his broth.

"You want to go grab us all some food?"

"Sure." Sam hesitated, then continued. "Didn't get chance to mention it, but I saw an Impala outside the wire last night."

"Yeah?" Dean's interest was piqued.

"Seems too much of a coincidence?"

His brother snorted. "Coincidences and Winchesters don't go together Sam, you know that. Lemme know if you see it again."

.

It would only take five minutes to take a quick walk along the nearest boundary fence. Something seemed to be drawing Sam in that direction; it had been calling to him since Alec woke him that morning. It wasn’t a vision as such, but the urgency was similar.

He paused in the entrance to their building, then turned away from the Mess Hall and headed resolutely to the perimeter. When he passed the last barricade before the wire, he already knew it would be there. Silent this time, parked in the weak sunlight on the deserted street, raindrops scattered across its gleaming surface and catching the light like a thousand glittering crystals. The Impala. Again.

Sam approached the wire on silent feet. There was no-one in sight. From this angle he could see the number plate clearly. KAZ 2Y5. She was identical in every way, but for all that there was something wrong about her. Nothing specific. Just…wrong.

Sam wound his fingers into the wire fence, brow furrowing. Dean would know his baby anywhere and he’d certainly know a doppelganger if he saw one. He needed to fetch his brother, now.

The slight scuffing noise behind him would have been missed by any human other than a hunter. Sam whirled, fast enough to see his assailant, far too slow to evade the Taser that made contact with his ribs. The world exploded into juddering agony and faded away as his long legs collapsed. His last sight was the asphalt, gritty and inexplicably close to his nose.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah I know, cliffhanger, sorry!
> 
> You make my day by reading, thank you so much.  
> Extra special thanks for the kudos and comments :-)


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For readers of Spn, ‘Rewind to the beginning’ is now complete (at least as far as series 1 is concerned) and there’s a one-shot up, ‘Leaves’. See author ‘Dreamsnake’.

 

“Joshua!”

The large canine transgenic paused in the entrance to his living area. “Dean.” He gave a toothy grin and sniffed the air at the bottom of the stairs dramatically. “Where is Sam?”

“That’s what I was gonna ask you.” Dean swung down the last couple of steps and arrived in the hallway next to him. “He went to get food a while back now. I was kinda hoping you’d seen him?”

“No.” Joshua shook his head and snuffled around close to Dean’s head. “You are worried.”

“What? No! Well…mebbe.” Dean grimaced, thinking no-one should be able to smell how you felt emotionally, but unable to deny it. “You didn’t see him at all?”

“That is what I am saying.” Joshua reiterated, nodding slowly, then gesturing at the street. “I can track him for you? Big Fella’s nose is very sharp.”

“Er no, it’s okay man. I guess he got talkin’.”

Joshua continued his sniffing, nose now pointed up the stairs. “What is wrong with Medium Fella; he smells of medicines. And the twin is hurting.”

Dean snorted derisively. “Ben deserves to hurt.” He paused, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at Joshua, almost embarrassed at the admission that followed. “Alec…he’s not so good since Ben turned up. Sam gave him some sleeping pills.”

“Ahh.” Joshua nodded slowly, his long hair swinging. “Yes. Alec needs to sleep, he is suffering with the night mares.”

The tension in Dean’s posture spoke clearly of his concern about Alec’s nightmares. “Yeah. Y’know, sometimes I wish Sam had never found Ben. He wasn’t meant to be here, not now.”

Furry wrinkles spread across Joshua’s face as he considered that statement, then he seemed to come to a decision. “But Ben _is_ here. So perhaps Sam was meant to find him.”

Dean looked at him, startled at the wise look in the big eyes fixed on his own. Joshua moved a little closer, his voice earnest.

“Medium fella’s brother should be giving Ben a chance.”

“A chance. To do what exactly?”

“To prove he can change. Ben is Alec’s twin. He is not an X2.”

“X2?” queried Dean, puzzled.

“The X2s went…wrong. Some of them came down to the basement. Manticore put the rest down.” Joshua sighed. “Manticore was a hard place to survive. Not everyone made it out.” He glanced up the stairs and turned back to Dean, a waft of dog breath making the hunter wrinkle his nose. “Big Fella had a brother once. In brother’s head, he could not escape Manticore. Now he is dead.”

The impact of the comment on Dean was clear from his face, his sudden feeling of awkwardness apparent in his delivery of the inadequate words. “I’m sorry.”

Joshua nodded again. “Everyone was afraid of him. Even Big Fella was afraid of him at the end. Now everyone is afraid of Ben.”

“Yeah, well he’s brought that on himself.”

Joshua continued as though he’d not been interrupted. “Some of them are being afraid of what Ben might do. Most are being scared they will become like him. Is that what you are afraid of?”

Dean’s mouth opened in protest and then closed again. He frowned. He wasn’t afraid of Ben. Why would he be worried that someone created from his DNA was crazy? He swallowed, hard.

“It is difficult escaping from Manticore when everyone is afraid of you, especially when Manticore is in your head.” With that parting shot Joshua turned away, leaving Dean standing in the hallway with a stunned expression on his face.

.

For a long time Sam drifted slowly in and out of consciousness, bobbing about under the surface of full awareness but present enough to know that he was tied securely to a chair. When he finally forced his eyes slightly open he could see two figures silhouetted against a bright light. He peered through his long bangs, grateful they filtered out some of the glare because his head was banging and his ribs throbbed sickeningly, probably a result of the Taser.

One of the figures approached, voice and face falling into place immediately. “Well, it seems the young Mr Winchester is joining us.

A hard slap to the face made Sam gasp involuntarily and his eyes flew open. It was Ames White. The familiar gave him an insincere smile. “Remember me?”

Sam scowled at him. He wasn’t likely to forget White in a hurry.

“Now, you may be wondering why you’re here? What use you could be to us?”

Sam stared at him, sure he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Hmm? Cat got your tongue? Well, truth is I’m not interested in you, only as a bargaining chip. Still…it’s a shame to miss a golden opportunity like this, isn’t it?”

White punched him in the gut with force. Sam gagged, coughed, heaved for air.

“I didn’t have a pleasant trip home, after we last met. So, before I make a deal, I owe you some pain. That’s fair, don’t you think? Of course, if you should happen to have any information, any at all, that may be useful then I can arrange for there to be, let’s say, a little less pain.”

White smirked at him, patted him kindly on the shoulder and gestured behind him. “This is Bradley. Say ‘hello’ Bradley. Bradley will be making your stay enjoyable.”

White stepped backwards, still smiling and gave a friendly wave of farewell. Sam took a breath, blew out through his nose and waited for the onslaught.

.

Dean’s stomach griped and twisted, nauseating waves of fear washing over him as he paced with Mole behind Joshua. Sam was still missing, had been gone far too long for the outcome to be anything good. Now he was following a man who was part dog and quite possibly the only person who could provide a clue as to his brother’s whereabouts.

“Sam was walking this way,” said Joshua.

“You sure?” Dean’s thoughts skittered like water droplets on hot metal. He’d lost his brother, again. He ground his teeth, bit back the rising panic.

“Joshua is very sure.” The transgenic’s voice held a note of finality. “He is coming to the fence, there.”

The wire fence stood undamaged, the street beyond it clear of vehicles or movement of any kind. There was no sign of Sam.

Joshua cast about for a while like a hunting dog on a trail, his frown becoming deeper by the second. “Someone else was here, they are burning Sam with electricity!”

“Burning!” Dean’s voice matched the growl that was beginning to rumble in Joshua’s chest. He turned to Mole. “Joshua can smell all this?”

“He’s got the best nose ‘round this place,” said Mole calmly. “Sounds like your brother got himself in some trouble.”

The growling turned into a full-blown snarl and Joshua’s lip lifted to expose his teeth. “White. He was here.” He gestured at the fence, pointing to a minute thread of cotton caught on the top links. “They took him over the top.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ gank that bastard.” The words were quiet but intense. It only took Mole one glance at Dean’s face to make it clear just where the violent gene had originated.

.

When the message came it was short and to the point and it was attached to a tiny transgenic who’d been missing for weeks. The youngster walked up to the barricade, shaking from head to foot and trying to blink back the tears that welled in her eyes. Once inside, she held out a small piece of clean, white card.

“494 in exchange for Winchester. Ten minutes. Barricade.”

Dean snarled; he was being asked to trade one brother for another.

.

Mole had an impressive amount of firepower directed at the open space in front of the barricade, some of it clearly visible, some secreted in the surrounding buildings. It was immediately obvious that White was similarly prepared.

“I can’t let you do this.” There was anger in Dean’s whisper, mixed with the despair of knowing he had no choice. If Alec didn’t go out to White then Sam, currently at gun point on the other side of the fence, was a dead man; White had made that clear in his brief megaphone message.

“No choice.” Alec’s confirmation was firm. “Look, I know we look alike and everythin’, but White, he’s gonna know the difference.” He gave a weak imitation of a grin; it didn’t sit well on his pale face. “Told ya before, I’m the handsome one.”

“Yeah right. You can barely stand up.” Dean had hold of his clone’s arm, could feel the weight coming and going as Alec swayed, still groggy from the effects of the tranquilizers and his flashback.

Alec patted his hand reassuringly. “I got this. I’m the super soldier, remember? You’ve got no chance against White.”

“You might be a friggin’ super soldier, but you’re still my little brother.”

Alec pulled away with a decisive move. “And your other one is out there, with a gun to his head.”

Dean felt sick. It was true. The weaponry trained on Sam’s battered face made it quite clear that any wrong move on the part of the inhabitants of Terminal City would end with his brother’s brains spread across the barricade.

Unwilling, unable to make any other choice and forced into inaction, he watched Alec take his first unsteady steps towards the edge of the solid block of shadow in which they hid. Ten more steps after that edge and he would be at the opening to the barricade.

“Why does White want you?”

“Well, I am awesome.” Alec smirked over his shoulder. “But I’m guessing he wants somethin’ from Maxie; he’s got some crazy idea in his head that I actually mean somethin’ to her.”

Any further thought in that direction was cut short.

“HEY!” A strong voice rang out, echoing a little in the open space between the buildings.

Sam’s head came up, his swollen eyes widening as a figure limped into view, heading directly at the barricade.

In the cover of the shadows, Mole’s arm swung out, holding Alec back. “Keep quiet or you’ll get someone killed.”

“You want to make this trade or what?” It was Ben, stepping into sunlight, all pale skin and dark clothing, the glitter of his eyes visible under his dark scowl.

The door of the gleaming ATV behind Sam swung fully open as some of the rifles re-aligned on the figure now slouching arrogantly in the gap in the fence. White stepped out of the vehicle, still partly shielded by the door.

“Well…494. Seems like jumping out of helicopters wasn’t too good for your health after all.” He smiled his deadly smile, visibly delighted at the partly healed injury.

“I’m awesome but even I can’t win ‘em all,” said Ben, calm, ice in his tone. He had hold of the fence with one hand and waved the other arm in a languid manner at Sam. “Send him over and I’m all yours.”

“Easy as that?” White laughed. “452 got nothing to say about it?”

“Max isn’t involved in this.” That at least was the truth; the leader of Terminal City was in a secret meeting with a government agency two states away and knew nothing of the incident.

“She will be,” promised White. “She will be.” He jerked his head in the direction of Sam. “Both of you, walk forwards. One wrong move and you’re both dead.”

Ben shrugged, smirked, limping slowly forwards under the bright sunlight. Sam thought it was the first time he’d seen him completely clear of the shadows.

Sam stumbled on towards the fence, hardly able to keep on his feet, his mouth opening to say something, but Ben shook his head, just slightly, the unspoken communication in his eyes as easy to read as if it had been Dean approaching. As they passed he dropped an eyelid in a slow wink, gave an easy grin; Sam thought he’d never looked more like Dean.

It seemed to take forever to reach the gap in the barricade; the world was going in and out with Sam’s every tortured breath. Then suddenly he was in shadow and Dean was there, his arms reaching out as Sam began to fall. Just before he passed out he heard the sickening sound of something making contact with flesh and Ben’s involuntary grunt, there was the sound of Alec swearing wildly and then there was just darkness.

.                                                                               

The warehouse was huge, dark and echoingly empty but for the pool of white light in the center where a harsh floodlight illuminated a cage with the door flung open. White and several assistants stood at the edge of the circle of light, staring at a half-naked figure sprawled awkwardly face-down just outside the cage.

“He’s unconscious, Sir. Has been for some time.”

White nodded. He approached the body that was clad only in torn, dark jeans. The marks of savage and repeated beatings covered the exposed skin, mottled bruises and torn flesh tattooed in grotesque patterns along ribs and back. The raw circles of burns tracked along the soles of the bare feet and across the hand thrown carelessly in front of the man’s head.

White smiled, his lips bloodless in the bright light as he stooped over the figure and lifted the sweat-darkened hair at the nape of the neck. He hissed then, smile fading. His agents were correct. X5-493. Presumed dead. Most definitely not X5-494. It wasn’t a total loss, even it was a disappointment. There was no saying if 452 would be as eager to rescue the transgenic known as Ben although he’d heard they were close back in Manticore. Still, not a complete loss; the transgenic’s suffering had been most enjoyable.

White stood and delivered a swift kick to Ben’s ribs. The body jerked sluggishly but there was no other reaction.

“You can go.”

“But Sir…”

“I’m armed, Bradley. Leave me. All of you. Now!”

There was a brief pause then the hollow sound of footsteps receding across the vast floor. A metal door shrieked and clanged shut. White pulled a wooden chair into the circle and sat, leaning back and resting one ankle on his other knee.

“You’re awake,” he stated flatly.

Swollen lips moved against the grit of the floor. “And you’re an asshole.” So weak even White’s incredible hearing struggled to make out the words.

“Smart mouth, just like your twin.” White sucked at his teeth, running through possible courses of action. “X5-493. I heard you were dead, but here you are.”

Dark lashes parted, just a little, as the transgenic coughed; it sounded wet and White noted how his fingertips clawed momentarily at the floor.

“You’re all broken,” he observed in a bored tone. “So what to do with you? Umm…I think maybe if I take you apart, find out what makes you tick, now that would be entertaining.”

Ben’s eyes opened a little more, his eyes shining dark in the hard light.

“Terminal City is in uproar. Taking the Winchester boy and then you…” White laughed. “Like poking an ants’ nest with a burning stick.” He stood up, one hand in his pants’ pocket. “494 and the Winchesters, I hear they want you back.” He read the tiny movement of Ben’s head accurately. “That surprises you? It surprises me too, but hey, ordinaries and transgenics, who knows what’s going on in their heads.”

He strolled slowly around the edge of the circle, taking pleasure in the labored sound of breathing coming from his captive. “My sources tell me we should be in a position to take 494 in the next couple of hours; he’s not his normal self by all accounts. Now I think if I drop off your body at the same time the elusive 452 won’t be slow in coming forward to rescue your twin; she seems to be fond of him.”

“Why’d you want Max?” The words were such an effort that Ben appeared to slip back into unconsciousness, his eyelashes fluttering down.

White waited obligingly until they lifted again and a spark returned to the transgenic’s eyes. “She has something I need, written in her skin. You and 494, you’re just pawns in the game.” He sat back on the chair, smiling.

Very, very slowly Ben raised his head from the floor. That he was still able to do so was remarkable. The venom in his eyes was shocking and sent an unexpected chill down White’s spine. He’d heard this one was different and it was there in the glitter of his green eyes and the hard planes of his sculpted face. He watched, fascinated, as the transgenic’s lips parted.

“I’m no pawn.” A thick rope of viscous blood escaped from Ben’s mouth and stretched down to the floor to join the small pool where his head had been lying. Such defiance in the face of death. It was almost a waste.

White was opening his mouth to reply when Ben slammed into his chest, moving so fast that the familiar was caught unawares. He flew backwards, the chair shattering beneath their combined weight as he struck out at the blood-streaked face above him. It was too late, vice-like fingers took hold of his skull and cracked it onto the concrete.

When White came to, he was lying uncomfortably on wrists restrained behind his back by his belt. X5-493 was astride his chest and the sharp blade of White’s own knife was pressing into his jugular. Ben smiled at him, lips curving back from red-rimmed teeth.

“I’m going to kill you,” he promised. “Soon. But today I’ve left you with something to remember me by.”

“SIR, SIR!”

Running footsteps were followed immediately by a sprinkle of hot glass as the light above them shattered. The weight was gone from White’s chest; he tried to call out but found he was gargling on the blood gathered in his throat.

Ben was gone, leaving just a few bloody footprints behind.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dark chapter.  
> I will be off grid for three or four weeks. If I can squeeze a small update in when I get wi-fi I will, but don’t despair if I don’t. I’m definitely not finished with this story ;-)  
> If you can find time to review, I would really appreciate it. As always, they do keep me going.  
> Thank you all for reading :-)


	41. Chapter 41

 

Sam was a pale shadow of his normal self as he lay propped against a random assortment of tatty cushions and pillows on the narrow cot. Exhausted shadows and bruises were vying for pride of place on his drawn face and seeing the way he kept his fingers tucked under the edge of the blanket, Dean guessed that they were still shaking.

Dean’s chair was pressed hard against the cot and had been since his brother took up occupation. Alec, outwardly calm but with his knee bouncing with contained stress, was seated on the end of the bed; he took space intended for Sam’s feet, but Sam was too glad to have his brothers next to him to make any protest. For a while there, he’d thought he might not see them again.

“So, that’s pretty much how it happened? You can’t remember anything else at all?” Alec, although mindful of Sam’s injuries and general state of shock, was in military mode and his keen gaze was fixed on Sam’s face as though he could forcibly extract forgotten details from his mind.

Sam considered the question carefully. If his brothers were going on a rescue mission he didn’t want to miss even something trivial that might make all the difference in getting them back safely. He shook his head slowly. “No. That’s everything.” He looked earnestly from one to the other. “Be careful. White’s operation is professional and very tight.”

Alec grinned. “There’s no operation in the world tight enough to keep us out. That right, Dean?”

“Damn right.” There was a mean look on Dean’s face. White was top of his hit list.

“We’ll be just a few hours. No sweat.” Alec slid off the bed, sending a cocky grin in Sam’s direction as he directed his next words to Dean. “We gotta get out of here…get this mission on the road.”

Behind him, Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam’s wrist where it lay outside the edge of the covers and gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze.

“You stay put there, Sammy.”

“Be careful of White.” Sam repeated the warning, unable to express adequately how helpless he’d felt in the familiar’s clutches.

“I see White, I’m gonna smoke him.”

Dean’s words were without inflection of any kind, his face expressionless. It sent a shiver down Sam’s spine and Dean softened momentarily, reading the fear in his brother’s hazel eyes. He gave him a tight smile, then turned away.

“C’mon Alec, let's get this over with.”

.

Dean and Alec selected their weapons of choice from the armory, leaving a few minutes later with Mole and two specially selected soldiers.

“Max ain’t gonna like this.” Mole didn’t sound too worried. “She’s on the way back with Logan.”

Alec snorted. “Well, far be it from me to violate the chain of command, but hey, Maxie can chew me out later.”

Dean shrugged, uncaring if he alienated the leader of Terminal City. “So…she’ll get her panties in a knot. We’re not hangin’ around. When White finds out he’s got Ben, not Alec, there’ll be hell to pay and Ben is gonna be the one paying the price.”

Two minutes later the small party slipped out through the defenses and into the back of a waiting van. White’s abandoned warehouse was approximately fifty minutes away by road.

None of them knew that Ben had been beaten until he was close to death and had already made his escape.

.

As soon as he was clear of the warehouse, Ben ran. He ran at super-human speed on burnt, bare feet with his injured knee sending fire arrows along his nervous system with every step. He ran in the darkness with only his cat genes to aid his eyesight. He ran naked to the waist in the cold, northern rain and the blood from his injuries seeped and mixed with the icy water, sapping his strength with every passing minute.

Adrenaline kept him going for the first five miles; those five miles got him clear of the area, enabled him to get his bearings and gave the cold rain time to clear his head.

The pace was not sustainable. As the heady mix of adrenaline wore off, he closed his mind to the hurt that had been done to his body; the discipline instilled by Manticore and the determination that had enabled him to survive in the outside world took over and carried him on for several miles more. Then his bad leg twisted on a tree root and he went down, unconscious before he could even register the impact of the pain. Long minutes later the cold roused him and he lifted his face out of wet leaf mold and knew his strength was almost gone.

At the third attempt he made it back onto his feet. He tore some material from the bottom of one leg of his jeans and bound two sturdy sticks on either side of his bad knee. It was better than nothing and he could resume his flight, though slowly and awkwardly now. The hurt was everywhere, pushing through his mental barriers, every injury shrieking to be heard louder that the rest.

A long time later, after several more falls, he realized that he was heading back to Terminal City. It occurred to him to wonder why, but the only reason he could find was that there was nowhere else for him to go.

Once he was sure that someone was walking easily alongside him in the darkness. The man didn't say anything, but he looked at Ben with compassion in his deep blue eyes. Ben thought he must’ve been a hallucination, because when he thrust out a hand to see if he was real there was nothing to feel, and the rain didn't dampen the man’s dark hair or his coat.

By the time dawn lightened the sky the rain had stopped, Ben was reeling in and out of the shadow of the grim reaper and Terminal City was still impossibly far away. He thought now that he probably wouldn’t make it. Perhaps it was for the best. He’d paid his debt to Sam, but he owed another debt. Life had been returned to him, even though he was a killer, when he was meant to be dead. Ben thought that maybe, the next time he fell, he would be repaying part of that debt too.

.

The storming of the warehouse was done with military precision. It was unnecessary; White and his associates had gone.

The abandoned cage, the smashed chair, the pools and streaks of blood and the implements used to bring that blood forth all told a story. A dirty story of torture, but one with an unexpected ending. Escape.

Mole took his soldiers to the East, moving swiftly, tracking the familiar’s party. His priority was to end the life of one Ames White, threat to Terminal City.

Dean watched them leave, disappointment at missing White evident on his face. He spoke, half to himself. “Wherever White’s running, he ain’t running fast enough.” Alec wasn’t sure if he was referring to Mole’s pursuit or some future action he planned to take himself.

“Did you get a lead on crazy boy?”

Dean pointed out into the dark trees. “Your eyesight better be as good as you say it is.”

They headed West, in the general direction of Seattle, following a blood trail that smelt of Ben and hurt and increasingly of despair.

It was dark and it was raining, but the combination of Dean’s hunting skills and Alec’s enhanced abilities and military training enabled them to move at speed. Animals and birds startled by their near-silent passage fled in instinctive fear of creatures they accurately identified as predators, hunters.

They followed a trail that gradually began to waver and falter. They passed the first place where Ben had fallen and a grimness settled on their faces because after that the gaps between the bloodied footprints became less and the prints left by a hand reaching for support became more.

By dawn it was a race against time.

.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Normal, this is some far distance outside Original Cindy’s remit.”

Normal frowned at her over the top of his glasses and then returned his attention to the badly kept road, fingers more used to holding a pen gripping tight at the juddering steering wheel.

“May I remind you, Missy, you are an employee of Jam Pony, not some prima donna in a stage production.”

“Why you gotta be so salty? May I remind _you_ , a girl is entitled to some extra remuneration for hauling her delicate ass out of bed at this time of day.”

Normal sniffed. “You’ll be paid. This, I’ll have you know, is a very important delivery. Very important. It could make all the difference in the competitive world of parcel delivery.”

OC sniggered. “Right, ‘cause Jam Pony ain’t the only parcel delivery joint in town.”

Normal set his jaw. The request had specified two operatives were required and unfortunately Original Cindy had been the only one he’d been able to rouse from bed. Of course, things weren’t the same since his transgenic delivery personnel had fled into Terminal City. If only his golden boy was sitting next to him instead of the smart-mouthed Cindy. Not that Alec didn’t have a smart mouth of course, but…

Normal’s thoughts roamed away and he smiled, deciding that the jibing from the passenger seat was inconsequential noise.

.

Ben stopped. Just stopped.

The hurt had travelled with him every step of the way, a dragging burden with vicious claws and teeth that savaged every part of his abused body. Now, suddenly, it was gone.

The weak sunlight of early morning painted the roadway a golden hue, Ben’s shadow stretching long and thin and insubstantial in front of him. He’d followed the pale wraith for several minutes but couldn’t seem to catch up; it was always in front, stretching out ahead of his stumbling feet.

It was a nice place, there on the road, green trees set back on either side all filled with the sound of birdsong. The drainage ditch at his left-hand side was mossy and at the bottom a living snake of sparkling water chuckled its way along. Even through the cloying smell of his own metallic blood, Ben could smell the fresh rain-washed aroma of the morning.

It was a good place to stop.

It was a good place to die.

.

Dean’s breath dragged raw in his throat; his muscles burned to the point where they would stiffen if he stopped. Every instinct told him that the prey was weak, about to go down. The only trouble was the prey this time was Ben and he really didn’t want Ben to go down.

They stared ahead of them. The trail of bent grass and broken twigs left by Ben’s increasingly uncaring passage headed out of the trees and along the grass verge at the edge of a rough road.

“He’s not gonna last much longer.” Dean’s fingertip ghosted lightly over the palm print on the tree trunk next to him. “Sonofabitch!” He ran his hand over his face, wiping away the accumulation of sweat and dirt and weariness as his concerned gaze settled on Alec. “We’re kinda running low on time here.”

“The road turns on itself. We can cover more ground if we split up.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “You cut across through the trees; try and get ahead of him. I’ll stay with the road.”

“You got it.” They were a perfect team, a combination of compatible skills and experienced decision-making under pressure; there was no need for further discussion.

Dean resumed his tired but steady lope up the road. Alongside, getting gradually further away, he could hear Alec; tiredness had stolen some of the silence from his feet.

It was easier going on the road; although the surface was rough there were no protruding roots or brambles to snag at clothing so Dean picked up the pace a little, keeping his breathing even.

He knew Sam would be wondering where they were. The urge to get back to his little brother was strong, but it was partly for him that Dean was out here, running with the warmth of the morning sun on his back, because Sam was fond of Ben and treated Ben like family.

Dean reflected that he’d thought of Ben as someone essentially self-centered, acting out because of a childhood no worse than that suffered by every other transgenic. Then Ben had stepped forwards to save Sam, assumed Alec’s identity and become a captive himself, fully aware that the likely outcome was torture and quite possibly death. Had he done that thinking he’d have an opportunity to slip away, or was it because he cared for his twin and the man who’d saved him from death? The fact that he was now heading back towards Terminal City suggested it was the latter.

Mulling that over as his boots struck an even cadence on the hard-packed surface, Dean decided he wanted to get to know this second clone, try and find out why he’d turned to the dark side.

Maybe there was a place in the family business for Ben? It was ironic, saving people and hunting things was what they did. Today, he was both hunting and trying to save his clone.

.

Ben sighed. He fingered the hard objects in the bloodstained wrap of cloth in his pocket and wished in a vague and regretful way that he’d finished White while he had the chance.

He was sorry he wouldn’t get to know his twin and the men his twin regarded as family. At least, he thought, Alec had someone to care for him, to help him with his memories of Manticore. It was a nice thought.

The warmth seemed to have gone from the sun and the road seemed grayer in color than before. Ben’s breathing faltered, dragging in his throat. Even most of the birds had gone quiet, although an insistent one peeped a sharp note behind him.

Very slowly, with all the grace he had inherited in his DNA and displayed in his movements since he’d drawn his first breath, X5-493 collapsed into the drainage ditch. He fell backwards, stretched out in a long arc, leaving his long legs in the torn, dark jeans lying with their knees hooked over the mossy edge of the ditch while his pale torso and outstretched arms slid down the bank with a supple ripple of muscle and bone under skin. His sweat-soaked head kissed the sparkling water and sank, little bubbles of trapped air breaking free of his hair as the icy liquid flowed over his face.

.

A tall, lean figure was at the side of the road ahead of them. The man was half naked and the soft morning sunlight lit his back in pale gold and highlighted the injuries on his pale skin he swayed, dangerously close to toppling into their path. Normal blasted the horn several times in warning with a sharp mutter. “What’s this folderol?”

There was no response and the boss of Jam Pony already had his foot over the brake and was about to press the horn again when recognition dawned. His fingertip fell away from the horn and he uttered a startled comment.

“Alec?”

Original Cindy echoed him, clutching at the dashboard as Normal stamped on the brake.

The van was still shuddering to a halt when the figure folded and fell in a graceful arc into the drainage ditch at the side of the road. He sprawled, his long length stretching from the verge down to the water and Normal clearly saw the splash as his head was submerged.

“Oh no!” Normal half-fell out of the van and threw himself into the ditch, uncaring of the mud that submerged his highly prized brown suede shoes. The transgenic’s head was submerged, clear water flowing over his features like living glass. Normal’s hand, shaking with nerves, raised the head above water level. The bloodless face was motionless; water streamed from hair and skin, the droplets turning to rainbow crystals as they fell through the sunlight to rejoin the flow.

“Is that Alec?” OC was shrill, her manicured nails incongruous against the stained and ripped black jeans as she caught hold of the man’s legs to prevent him sliding further down the bank.

“Keep hold of his legs.” Normal was down on one knee in the ditch, hoisting the surprisingly heavy torso and clasping it to his chest. “Up, up,” he panted, jerking his head in the direction of the verge. Original Cindy took a firm grasp and between them they lifted the tall figure up onto the grass beside the van.

“Is he dead?”

“No! No.” Normal sounded frantic as he tipped the transgenic onto his side and a dribble of water escaped from blue lips. “My golden boy can’t be dead.”

He looked as though he was about to cry, Original Cindy thought, blinking at sudden moisture in her own eyes. She pawed at her cell, dashing angrily at her eyes as Normal began CPR. She reached Max just as a flood of bloody water spewed out of the transgenic’s mouth.

“Straight up! It’s Alec. He took a dive right in front of Original Cindy.”

Normal sat back on the heels of his ruined shoes with a gasp of relief. “Get us some help Missy, fast! There’s been some nefarious activity going on around here!”

“Shugga, are you sure?” Original Cindy’s ear was still pressed to her cell and her mouth opened in an O of surprise. She waved the cell in Normal’s direction. “Hey, Normal, listen up would ya. That ain’t Alec. That boy is his crazy twin. Max says you be careful, there ain’t no tellin’ how he’s gonna react if he opens those pretty green eyes of his.”

“Ben, twin?” said Normal faintly. “There’s two of them?”

“Hold it right there!” An angry, deep baritone interrupted them and Normal looked up to find himself staring down a blued barrel. He swallowed nervously, gradually re-focussing on the face behind the barrel. Furious green eyes glared at him out of Alec’s face…but not Alec’s face, something harder, leaner about it.

It couldn’t be Alec’s face anyway, because Alec, still clearly in possession of his own face, was running up the road towards them. He came to a halt next to Normal and dropped to one knee, addressing the man with the gun as he did so.

“Dean, it’s okay. These are friends.”

“Thought I was trippin' there for a minute.” Original Cindy blinked. “Alec, who the hell is that? Normal here was suckin’ water outta this one’s mouth and suddenly another one pops up outta nowhere!”

Alec glanced up briefly, his fingertips on the sluggish pulse in Ben’s neck. “I guess you all haven’t been introduced… Original Cindy, Normal, this is my twin Ben; he’s a little nuts. And the guy with the gun over there, that’s our donor, Dean Winchester.”

“Three of them.” Normal was a few shades pinker than before as he pulled off his glasses and polished them nervously.

Alec rose to his feet. “Well, now we’ve got the social niceties out of the way… Normal, I’m appropriating your van.” He paused suddenly, raising an eyebrow at Normal with the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth. “You gave Ben the kiss of life?”

Normal raised his chin. “Yessir I did, that’s a fact.” He squared his shoulders and nodded, opening the side door with a sweeping gesture.

Dean slid the gun back into the waistband of his pants and ran his hands expertly over Ben’s body, his face turning hard and his mouth tightening as he saw the damage. “White did this. That man has some answerin’ to do.”

Alec nodded, he took hold of Ben’s legs with care as Dean lifted him by the shoulders and they laid him in the back of the van. Ben groaned, the movement of his eyelids signaling he was returning to some semblance of consciousness; he turned his head suddenly to the side, coughing up a quantity of bloody mucus that narrowly missed Dean’s boot.

Alec put one foot up into the van and then paused, reaching out to give Normal’s shoulder a firm pat. “Thanks man.”

Normal blushed. “Ahem. It’s the least a man can do. These are trying times.”

“I’m gonna stay in the back with Ben,” said Dean. He could see that X5-493 was struggling to get a clear breath and raised him carefully to a sitting position, leaning him against the side of the van. He made sure his gun was readily accessible, just in case, and settled on Ben’s right-hand side, sitting on the van floor and keeping Ben upright with an arm around his shoulders. It left space for Alec to sit opposite them, his legs stretched out alongside Ben’s and his boots by Ben’s left hip.

Normal started the engine, a look of pride suffusing his face. It was a momentous occasion for the boss of Jam Pony.

The rumble of the engine and the slam of the passenger door roused the unconscious transgenic. His eyelids flew open, fearful eyes scanning rapidly around the interior of the van, before his body convulsed and he lunged for the side door. Dean’s arm tightened around his shoulders, giving him a sharp tug back against his side. Ben was so weak that it was easy.

“Steady Ben. It’s Dean and Alec. You’re safe now dude.”

Ben stared up at him, his body rigid with fear as he said something Alec couldn’t catch over the noisy engine.

Dean frowned, dipped his head and replied, his lips close to Ben’s ear. To Alec’s surprise, Ben’s face crumpled; he was clearly almost out of his mind with terror. He said something else and Dean’s face darkened.

“Whaddya mean?” The sharper, raised tone carried to Alec’s ears. He didn’t hear the reply but saw his older brother’s expression twist slowly into revulsion, then violent anger and then compassion.

Ben said something else, his hand grasping at the damp denim over Dean’s thigh. Dean pulled him closer, moving behind his torso a little so that Ben was leaning against one side of his chest.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he said, and the line of his jaw was fierce as he brought his other arm around, wrapping it across the front of Ben’s chest. “You’re my brother, just like Alec, and nothin’ bad like that is ever gonna happen to you again, not while I’m around.”

Alec wasn’t sure what had passed between them, but he drew his legs up and shuffled across to sit against Ben’s other side, leaning in just a little and pressing his leg against the length of Ben’s. They’d all been through too much. It didn’t matter what Ben had said, his twin needed support and Alec was there to give it to him.

Normal steered the van in the direction of Seattle. In the mirror he could see the three of them, dirty and tired and tight together. Something warm settled in his chest. He thought it might be the finest sight he’d ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note:  
> A much longer chapter, to make up for the fact that I’ll be off grid for a few weeks. So pleased I had a chance to get this one finished and posted before I go. Hope you like it.  
> I will be writing the next chapter once I get back.  
> Take care of yourselves and thank you all for reading.  
> Special thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos on the last chapter...you're awesome. :)


	42. Chapter 42

 

The pain was back; the blissful darkness torn away by claws of ice-cold water as it was forcibly ejected from his throat and replaced by the burn of unwanted air. Immediately tentacles of fire crept around him, writhing mercilessly and mocking his body’s renewed efforts to survive.

Ben tried to keep his eyes open only because Dean told him to do so and because Alec held a steadying hand on his thigh. Occasionally he drifted away, jerked back again by the jog of Alec’s shoulder or the tightening of Dean’s arms around him.

One time, when he opened his eyes, he found an old man standing next to his feet and looking down on him. He wore a suit of well-cut, grey, shot silk, shoes so highly polished that his specter-white face should have been reflected in their surface, but strangely was not. Something in his stance suggested he was waiting for someone; when he reached out his hand, Ben realized with a flutter of fear that it was him.

The old man stared at him with obsidian eyes, then made a ghostly beckoning motion with his fingers and Ben felt a little tug, as though something was pulling him free from the familiar adhesion of his body. Panic stirred, dull in his burning chest, as the tugging increased and caused a sensation of fibers being stretched and snapped as his soul was pulled upwards. Pain retreated, tied to his physical body; soon it would be gone altogether. Relief and regret mingled in a bitter-sweet cocktail of swiftly doused emotion.

“No.”

Ben jumped.

The old man was visibly startled, obsidian eyes switching abruptly to meet deep blue ones. The man in the trench coat. Still calm. His face was stern as he held the old man’s gaze.

“He’s mine to take. You’ve no right.” Anger and strength were in the old man’s words and on the wrinkled face.

“Not this one. Not yet. He has a purpose.”

“You’ve no right.” Unsure now, the tone faltering.

“I have authority.” Blue eyes burned with a zealous fire and the old man’s white hand dropped, skeletal fingers falling against the shot silk clothing his thigh.

“It’s his time.”

But the protest was weak and Ben felt himself slump back into his body, not quite aligned. The pain was back, sharp and insistent along his nerves. His eyes filled with tears. Enough.

“But it’s his time.” The voice was that of an ancient man now, querulous with age.

“It’ll be his time soon enough. All of them, they walk only for the blink of an eye.”

The old man dropped his head in acquiescence and simply faded out of sight.

Ben blinked, shaking with the nauseous sensation of being misaligned and in agony. Blue eyes regarded him with compassion, the ends of the tan trench coat sweeping the dusty floor of the van as the dark haired man squatted down.

“The Blue Lady doesn’t need anything else from you.” It was an order.

Ben’s lips moved soundlessly. “Yessir,” his internal voice said. The man seemed to hear anyway and nodded with a sharp movement of his head.

“Stay with the Winchesters and your twin.” His gaze moved briefly to Dean and Alec and then settled back on Ben’s pale face.

Ben breathed his agreement, unable to form words around the fire in his throat.

A hand touched his shin. White, cool light flooded through him, wrapped the pain in soft layers of cotton wool and tore it away, leaving only warm sleep behind.

Ben’s head lolled against Dean’s shoulder, caused a stir of alarm, the urgent movement of fingers against his neck.

“Is he…?” Even as he asked the question, Alec knew Ben was still alive, the steady thrum of his pulse suddenly strong in his ears. He squinted at his twin, raised puzzled eyes to Dean.

Dean’s hands moved fast, checked, re-checked. “Guess his healing abilities just went into overdrive.” He checked Ben’s pulse again, shrugged. “Pulse is good. He seems easier; I guess he’s asleep.”

Alec ran his own check. Ben’s injuries were healing. Not gone; that would take some time, but definitely beginning to knit together, fade. He struggled with it mentally for a minute or two, but exhaustion had dulled his mind and in the end he hunched his shoulders in a shrug of his own and leaned wearily into Ben’s side with a small frown stitched between his eyebrows. Something was bothering him. Had been bothering him for a while.

“Dean?”

Dean’s head came upright from its weary lean against the side of the van. “Yeah dude?” He recognized the tone, had heard it from Sam often enough.

Alec glanced quickly at him, then turned his eyes down to stare at his own boots. “Why brothers?”

“Huh?”

“Way back, you said I was your brother. Now Ben too. We’re clones. Unnatural creations of a mad genius. Seems to me that me and Ben, the others from Manticore…we shouldn’t even exist. So why brothers?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t comfortable ground for him, but he recognized the importance of the question.

“You do exist, right? You got as much right to exist as me and Sam, mebbe more.” He took a deep breath, organized his thoughts. “Yeah, you and Ben, you’re my clones; an exact copy of me, made by the combination of Mary and John Winchester’s genes, just like me and Sam. Doesn’t matter how you got cooked up, that doesn’t change the facts. You’re the same as me and Sammy, kiddo. A Winchester. And don’t you forget it.” He scowled at Alec to reinforce the message, saw the relaxation of the muscles along his clone’s jaw and knew that the message was received and understood. Sam would perhaps have done it better, but he thought he’d covered the main points. To his relief, Alec just nodded and leaned his head against the van side, letting his eyelids close.

“’Kay,” he said in a quiet voice.

It was a relief sometimes, that reaction so like Dean’s own. No need to dig into dark corners and analyze everything. He sighed and settled Ben more securely against his chest, let himself drift a little, needing only Sam next to him to make everything complete.

.

Sam awoke with a start, nearly tumbling from the narrow cot as Joshua burst into the room. He stared at the large transgenic with shocked eyes, still half entrapped by the dream that was fading into his subconscious.

“What the…?”

“Back, they are back!” Joshua’s arms were a windmill of excitement that slowed only when they were needed to steady Sam as he lurched from the bed, all thoughts of dreams pushed away.

“Are they…?”

“Joshua is not knowing everything…but all alive Sam!”

Sam shoved his feet into his boots and allowed his adrenaline to move his stiffened limbs into a semblance of a jog. When they reached the edge of the crowd gathered around the blue van, Joshua lowered his shoulder and plowed through like an ocean liner through a flotilla of small yachts. Sam followed in his wake, glad of the grip of the transgenic’s hand on his arm.

.

Normal and his passengers arrived back in Terminal City to a welcoming committee made up of Logan’s smile, Max’s glare and a subdued sense of excitement and anxiety from a sizeable gathering of transgenics.

Normal opened his door with all the finesse of a seasoned stage player and stepped out with pride, straightening his tie as peered intently at Max.

“Well now, what’s all this hullaballoo, missy.”

“Normal.” Max frowned and leaned around to see past him, relief coloring her cheeks when the side door slid open and Dean emerged, followed closely by Alec and a groggy but upright Ben. Her gaze swept over their bedraggled appearance, took in the visible signs of Ben’s healing injuries and suddenly her pent-up anxiety exploded into anger.

“What were you thinkin’! You gave yourselves up to WHITE! You could’ve compromised security in TC…” She ran out of words, fuming, throat closing as she found herself unexpectedly upset.

“Shugga…” Original Cindy lay a calming hand on her sleeve. “My girl needs to let it go.” She waved her glamorous nails at the three men. “Your boys is upright and breathin’. Not sayin’ they don’t need attention of the medical kind, but they are breathin’, at least one of ‘em courtesy of Normal here.”

Max’s brow furrowed in confusion at Alec’s sudden smirk.

“Yeah Maxie,” said Alec, his words drawn out in a nonchalant drawl. “Normal here saved the day, gave Ben CPR.”

“What?” The anger ebbed away, the beginnings of amusement pulling at Max’s mouth as she put her concern on hold because Ben was standing, listing and holding onto Dean’s arm admittedly, but definitely standing. CPR? She turned to Normal with an unsure smile. “Err…thanks? For saving Ben.”

“You were all lucky,” said Normal loftily. “It was pure good fortune there was a trained first-aider like myself on hand.”

Ben seemed okay, or if not okay, at least better than she’d expected. Max stepped closer, checking him over with her eyes. “How’d you get away?”

“Naturally gifted I guess.” Ben let the van side hold him up as he fingered the small packet that lay warm against his upper thigh in the pocket of his jeans.

“Did Mole…?”

Max turned, shook her head at Dean’s hopeful enquiry and saw the disappointment cloud his eyes.

“No,” she said. “White got away. They tracked him to an airfield but he’d already split.” Her lips made a moue of confusion. “I don’t get it. I thought things were gonna get all fired up, but then he just ran for it.”

“He’d betta keep runnin’,” snarled Dean. “’Cause I am gonna smoke that asshat.”

Behind Max, a ghost of a smile flickered across Ben’s white face. “Maybe someone pulled his fangs.”

The front ranks of the crowd were pushed aside as Joshua appeared, Sam close behind. Dean was in motion immediately, meeting his brother in a back-slapping hug that made the younger man wince but lit up the huge grin spreading right across his bruised face.

“Alec!” Joshua boomed, looming over them as he patted Alec’s shoulder with an enthusiasm that knocked the X5 into Ben’s side and nearly sent them both to the ground. Alec told him to watch out for the merchandise but Ben thought he didn’t seem to mind, not really.

Feeling like a bystander caught up in a family reunion, Ben made a move to step away but the motion was arrested by the grip of Alec’s fingers around his bicep. Identical eyes asked a silent question and Ben, blinking in surprise, nodded.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Joshua waved that affirmation away. “You are all coming with me and eating and resting.”

“Hey, Big Fella.” Max slipped in front of him, laid a hand on his chest as he tilted her face up. “I need to talk to them, okay?”

“No.” Joshua had a quiet dignity about him as he patted the back of Max’s hand and gestured at the twins. “Big Fella has been thinking and dreaming. Things are all messed up.” He lowered his mouth to Max’s ear, speaking in a quiet growl. “Medium Fella is torn in all directions, not knowing which way to go, like electricity through water. Ben…he is like canvas when the paint is too wet. If the man in the brown coat hadn’t come, Ben would be dead now.”

Alec’s enhanced hearing caught Ben’s name and it drew his attention to the quiet conversation. He eyed Joshua with surprise. “What man?”

“In the brown coat, in the van.”

Alec frowned, then gave his arm a playful nudge. “There were no men, in brown coats or pink dresses or anything else. You’ve been breathin’ in too many paint fumes again Big Fella.”

“Brown coat,” insisted Joshua, a stubborn line appearing between his eyes. Only Max noticed something pull at Ben’s expression, there and gone again, that said he knew more than he was letting on.

There were clearly things to discuss. She tried again, attempting to regain control of a situation that was spiraling into disorder. “We gotta debrief.”

“No,” said Joshua firmly. He pointed at Sam’s pale face. “They are needing to rest.”

“Not before a debrief, they’re not.” Even as she said the words, Max felt the wave of weariness coming off the men. She bit down on the snap in her voice and modified the comment. “But I guess it can wait until later.” She sighed.

Logan appeared around the corner of the van. He pushed his glasses up his nose with an apologetic air. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but Max, I think you need to hear this.”   He stepped aside to let Gem through.

“I’m sorry to interrupt now…” Gem gestured at the muddle of people.

“It’s okay Gem. Whaddya got?”

“Mole called. White and his crew are gathered outside Seattle; he says it looks like they’re gearing up for an attack.” She held up her hand. “Sorry, that’s not all. I just picked up a TV transmission from the local station. Someone has reported that Terminal City is harboring a serial killer.”

Max stared at her until her eyes went dry. The day was turning to nightmare. Behind her Joshua heaved a heavy sigh.

“I think the shit is hitting the fan.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and special thanks to those who left kudos and comments on chapter 41.
> 
> Unfortunately this will be the last chapter for the foreseeable future... On hiatus due to personal reasons.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of Part 2. Sorry about the delay in posting but real life took priority for a while.  
> Will there be a Part 3 you ask? Well, the ending will leave that possibility open, although it works perfectly well as an ending in its own right. So…maybe, one day.

 

 

Max scrubbed at her eyes, trying and failing to wipe away the fog of fatigue that had settled over her during the last few days. Even shark DNA didn’t keep her going forever. The situation wasn’t good. White’s private army of familiars had joined forces with local militia and Terminal City was surrounded, frozen once more in an uneasy state of siege. Tensions were high, not helped by the rantings of the circus media camped outside the gates. If shots were exchanged, who knew where it could lead.

“It’s never gonna end, is it? They’re never gonna leave us alone.”

The note of despair was unfamiliar in the feisty transgenic’s voice and Logan’s head came up, his attention torn away from the flickering screen of the old laptop. He pushed his lips out, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he slowly removed his glasses and began to polish them with small, decisive movements.

“We have some support growing within Government, Max.” When he finally spoke, Logan chose his words carefully, understanding and respecting the pressure bearing down the on the shoulders of the leader of Terminal City.

Max turned to him with a dark scowl. “They’re not a lotta use if they won’t take sides.”

“They can’t be seen to take sides with us, not now. You know that. The media is running wild with this story and they’re not going to let it go.”

Max sighed, hitched one hip up to rest the cheek of her ass on the table. “Ben.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. Ben.” Logan slipped his glasses back onto his face and settled them in place. His eyes, magnified a little by the lenses, were earnest. “Public opinion is starting to lean towards acceptance of transgenics. There are even support groups forming for those affected by what are viewed as illegal trials with human DNA. But Joe Public isn’t going to accept a situation where Terminal City is harboring a serial killer.”

Max sighed again, a weary acknowledgement full of sorrow and stress. “You’re right. Thing is, we send him away, where is he gonna go?”

.

It was a question that had been rattling around in Sam’s head for some time. Not to imply that Sam’s head was the empty kind of skull where a thought could collide with blank walls of bone and bounce freely across to the opposite wall. More that it was a thought with sharp edges, a question with a shape that didn’t fit with any answer his considerable brain capacity could produce. Fortunately, sometimes when the conscious mind cannot provide a solution, the unconscious mind comes forward with the very answer you are seeking. In Sam’s case it used the medium of a dream.

He awoke to the startling view of Joshua’s furry features at close quarters.

“Sam is dreaming. About Ben.”

“Uh…” Sam pushed stray hair out of his eyes, unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth and hoped his breath wasn’t as bad as the dog-scented wafts coming from the face hovering over him. “Yeah.”

Mercifully, Joshua sat upright, slapping the palm of his hands down onto his own thighs with a pleased expression. “Joshua has been dreaming too.” He squinted at Sam with a wistful gaze. “Can Sam do this thing?”

Sam swung his legs off the narrow cot and ran his fingers through his hair in a distracted way, pushing away the weird thought that Joshua had shared his dream. That weirdness could wait until later. “Honestly, I don’t know. Guess I’m gonna have to try though.”

Joshua nodded, the movement firm. “Yesss,” he said. “Yes.”

“Is it somewhere…quiet?”

Joshua nodded again. “Big fella has it in the perfect place.”

.

“Sam! Hey Sammy!”

Sam’s stride broke and he halted, his boots planted firmly on the uneven surface of the broken sidewalk. Turning his face upwards towards the sound of the familiar voice, he saw Dean’s head leaning out of a broken second floor window. His brother frowned down at him.

“Where you goin’?”

"Gonna give Joshua a hand.” Sam didn’t elaborate, hoping Dean wouldn’t question him further, but it seemed Dean had other things on his mind. His brother leaned a little further out of the window, resting his elbows on the shattered frame.

“Seen the news this morning?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Media is goin’ crazy, stirring up some heavy hitters in the Seattle law department. They’re demanding we hand over the serial killer. That ain’t gonna happen, Sammy. We gotta get Ben outta here, before some loose cannon starts somethin’ we can’t stop.”

Sam nodded. “I’ve got an idea…I’ll be a few minutes, okay?” I hope, he thought fervently, sending an easy grin in Dean’s direction. He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned away quickly, before the ever-present Dean-radar detected some anomaly in what was essentially a truthful statement.

.

The sound of the Winchester’s voices had travelled easily upwards to another broken window, set a floor higher and a little to the right of the one recently occupied by Dean’s head and elbows. A pigeon fluttered in through the broken panes, seeking a dry nesting ground. It settled on a bare shelf and regarded the X5 sitting on the dusty floor with a beady eye.

A steady pair of green eyes were turned in the same direction. Their owner shuffled slightly on the upturned crate on which he was resting, waiting for Ben’s reaction.

Ben kept him waiting a little longer, drawing the tip of his finger slowly through the brick dust and minute shards of glass that coated the floorboards beside his outstretched leg. Even the miraculous healing in the van had only gone so far to mending his leg and sometimes it was easier to just sit on the floor and stretch it out. Eventually he looked up and met Alec’s stare. He shrugged, raising his palms upwards in a gesture of resignation.

“I’m coming with you,” said Alec firmly.

Ben tilted his head back, letting it rest against the cobwebbed plaster behind him. His eyes were green slits in his pale face as he met his twin’s gaze.

“By all means,” he drawled. “Come along, get yourself strung up by a mob when some asswipe thinks you’re me.”

“There won’t be any stringing up,” snapped Alec. He rose swiftly, jaw muscle flickering. “Seems to me that you can’t wait to leave us all behind. But here’s the thing, you didn’t do so well without us, so mebbe you better hang around, least ‘til we come up with a plan.”

Ben scowled at him. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to be hard to shake off?

Alec smirked. “My bad, guess I’m just naturally persistent by nature.” He stepped forwards and bent down, taking a firm grip of Ben’s upper arm. “C’mon, don’t freak out on me yet. We’ll all get outta here, together.”

.

In the dim light of the warehouse the metal surface had a dusty sheen. Sam thought its bulky presence held within it all of his hopes. It might also be the death of him.

“Where’d you find it?”

“Mole was finding it outside the walls. Maybe White wasn’t needing it again. The engine is broken.”

“So Mole brought it in here.” Sam smiled, dragging his cuff along the streamlined curve of metal closest to him. “Guess he thought Dean would fix it up.” If they were going to stay, if things had been different, then he could see his brother out here, up to his armpits under the hood, bringing life back to the dusty shell of the duplicate Impala.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to steady the nervous trip-hammer of his pulse.

“Okay,” he said quietly to himself; he opened the door and put one long leg inside the foot well before looking back at Joshua. "If this doesn’t work…”

“It is working,” said Joshua firmly. “Big fella and Sam have both seen it already.”

Sam nodded. “You better stand back.” He dropped into the seat, placed a large palm over one of the vents and closed his eyes as he reached inside himself with his mind, seeking and finding the dark strand of power that coiled at the center of his being. It hummed beneath the touch of his thoughts, unfurled and stretched like a sun-warmed snake before sliding down his veins and out through the skin of his fingers, reaching for a block of lego that lay a universe away, nestled inside the vent of an Impala parked in a scrapyard in South Dakota.

.

“Are you friggin’ KIDDIN’ me!”

Dean’s voice hit a deep resonant note that clearly indicated his fury. Sam winced under the onslaught of the combination of scowl and shout.

“Dean, stop. It worked.”

“You could’ve been KILLED!”

Dean’s fingers curled into a fist and Sam tensed, sure his brother was about to let fly.

“What if you’d got lost? Sonofabitch!”

Dean spun on his heel and slammed his fist into the wall. A shower of old plaster fell down to land in white chunks around his boots and the noise brought the twins running into the room. Alec came to a halt and raised an eyebrow.

“Something we should know about?”

“Why don’t you ask smartass here?” Dean wiped debris down the side of his jeans, anger visible in the tight lines of his face and the angle of his shoulders.

“A way out of here,” said Sam hurriedly. “For all of us. Back home.”

“Your home.” Ben’s voice was mild.

“Yes, our home. And yours, if you want it to be.” Sam, used to reading Dean’s expressions, saw the minute change pass across Ben’s face, the more obvious conflict on Alec’s.

“We can’t just leave them to face this shit alone.”

“Yeah, Alec, you can.” Max was in the doorway, chin up and determination on her features. “What we have here is an army of trained super soldiers. More than that, we’re close to finding the answer to the runes.” She gestured to herself with an impatient wave. “If they’re what we think they are, we got a chance to save the world.”

“White has other plans.” Alec glared at her. “Maybe you could use a little help.”

“You could help, yeah. But what we need is public opinion on our side and we’re not gonna get that while Ben is here.” She waved off the protest before it was audible. “Do ya think the ordinaries care if it’s you or Ben or Dean they get hold of? ‘Cause I’m tellin’ ya, it’s not gonna make a bit of difference to those morons.”

“You want rid of us that bad, Max?” The sneer failed to hide the underlying hurt in Alec’s eyes.

Max stepped up close, staring up at him with defiance. “No, I don’t want rid of any of ya. But you gotta do the right thing here, for you and for everyone else. And you’re gonna do it or I’m gonna slap your bitch head!”

Alec stared at her, his face suddenly shuttered. “Well,” he murmured. “You got me shakin’ in my boots here, Maxie.”

“Look,” said Sam desperately. “It’s not that we want to go, but if we’re seen leaving then maybe things will cool down. Let’s give Terminal City a chance.”

“How can it have a chance with White at the gates?” Ben eyed him, giving nothing away of his feelings.

Max spoke up. “White wanted me, ‘cause of the secret hidden in the runes. But it’s too late for that now, and he knows it. There’s copies, being worked on at the highest levels. Any day now, we’ll have a solution and it’s gonna be something White and his familiars can’t handle. That’s why they’re waiting outside; it’s not me they want any more, it’s the Winchesters and you twins. They get you, they got a ticket to another world, one where no-one can stop ‘em. You all have to leave, now!”

“Doesn’t sit right,” said Dean. “Leavin’ you all to deal with those asshats.”

Mole slipped through the doorway, Joshua at his heels. “Way I hear it, you got some trouble back in your own world you need to take care of. Ain’t like y’going on some vacation. You Winchesters ain’t meant to be here anyhow, and Ben ain’t even meant to be alive.” He jabbed a finger at Alec’s chest. “You didn’t do so good last time you got left behind.” His gaze softened. “You remember though, what can travel one way can travel back, and you got family here too.”

Alec swallowed, hard, his eyes shunting from Mole to Max and on to Joshua.

In the end there was no arguing with the logic of any of it. All that remained were the finer details. It was decided they would attach themselves to each other, to avoid anyone drifting off to another place or time. Sam would stand outside the Impala and reach in to the vent. That way they should arrive in the same position, not all piled up on the seat.

“You’ve been a pain in the ass,” Mole told Dean, dropping a scaly wink.

“Right back atcha.” Dean grinned at him, gripped his hand and added in a serious tone, “I’ll look after him.”

“Know y’will,” Mole acknowledged gravely. “Or I wouldn’t be lettin’ him go.”

Alec missed the exchange, barely escaping with unbroken ribs from Joshua’s hug. “Big fella…” he said helplessly, unable to find words to meet the occasion.

“Medium fella, be free.” Joshua slapped him heartily on the back, wiped away a trickle of moisture from his own cheek and gave equally hearty back slaps to the Winchesters and Ben. By the time Alec got control of his features enough to turn around, Joshua had gone.

“Alec…” Max was in front of him, her familiar and annoying pout aimed in his direction. Alec didn’t want to tell her it was endearing but he guessed from the way her eyes softened that she knew anyway. He wanted to say something smart and all Alec, but couldn’t get anything past the lump in his throat.

“I know,” she said simply, her fingers playing with his cuff. “Been through some stuff, huh?”

“So you’re gonna save the world, Maxie?”

She laughed. “Looks like you got one of your own to save.”

Alec hugged her, felt the brush of her lips against his own before she slipped away to fold Ben in a hug. She whispered something in Ben’s ear and he nodded, eyes big and dark in his pale face as she stroked his hair.

“You betta blaze.” Max stepped away. “OC and Normal are out there doin’ their thing. By the time they’re finished there ain’t gonna be a news channel in the country doesn’t know the fugitives have been seen leaving the state.”

Then it was a flurry of thanks and good-byes and suddenly they were standing, linked together, outside the dusty Impala.

“Sammy…”

“Yeah, Dean. I know.”

Sam reached out, his fingers fastening over the cool vent. He closed his eyes…

.

“Stop right there, y’son of a bitch, ‘fore I blast y’all full of buckshot!”

It’d be a shame, Bobby thought. If those asshats made a move, the Impala was going to get a load of shot too.

The low chuckle was warm and unmistakable.

“What’s eatin’ at ya old man.”

Bobby hit the light switch and the yard was flooded with light. Sam, Dean, Alec and…

“Balls!”

…..

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> If you’ve reached this point, you’ve stuck with me and this fic for a long time. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate your support. Seeing those reader numbers, getting encouraging feedback…it all means so much to a nervous writer! I’ll miss the boys and I hope to re-join them some day. In the meantime, life of the real variety must come first for a while. I’ll be leaving my fics online and checking in on them from time to time so I’ll answer any comments you leave.  
> To my regular reviewers, I know I’ve said it before, but you really do make writing worthwhile and enjoyable. Round of applause to you all.  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and it tied up a few loose ends.  
> With thanks and warm wishes to you all. : )
> 
> Comments and kudos always welcomed :)
> 
> Disclaimer: Dean, Sam, Alec, Ben and any other characters from the TV shows Supernatural and Dark Angel do not belong to me in any way (sadly). I am just playing with the characters. This story is written purely for enjoyment, with no profit of any kind expected, intended or desired.


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